


Finding Stars

by Tragicplaywright



Series: Celestial Navigation [1]
Category: Grayson (Comics), Midnighter (Comics), Midnighter and Apollo (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tragicplaywright/pseuds/Tragicplaywright
Summary: Midnighter leans back, crossing his arms. "Apollo and I specialise in punching people. Hard. And we've been told you have someone who needs punching."





	1. Chapter 1

The sun sinks below the horizon, the last of its rays lighting up the sky in soft purples, pinks and oranges. Andrew can see the moon, half hidden by a cloud but still standing proudly in the sky. The heat of Midnighter’s back against his own spreads through his body, warming him in a way that not even the sun can. He reaches backwards, hand finding Midnighter’s and intertwines their fingers. The night air is cold and crisp around them, this high up devoid of almost all traces of pollution. Midnighter squeezes his hand gently.

Its dusk, when both the sun and moon are visible before they go back to their endless dance of separation.

Once he would have said the same of him and Midnighter.

That they were too different, too far apart, that he would never catch up to Midnighter no matter how hard he might try. They both had, had their roles in it. Andrew would push, maybe too hard, and Midnighter would pull away, retreating behind the safety of the walls he had constructed.

Now those walls are smaller, weaker. Since he had left him, Midnighter had let more people into his life; Marina, Jason, Robert, Will. The year that they were apart had been good for both of them. It had let Andrew come to terms with the fact that there was no Lucas Trent, that Midnighter had lied about who he was since they had met. Now he can understand why Midnighter had done it, even though he still doesn’t like it. It had given Midnighter the opportunity to find his place in the world without Andrew in it and to become comfortable in his own skin and who he is as a person.

The first stars begin to shine, little beacons of light against the darkness of the night.

Andrew used to wish on them as a child. Looking out up at them from his bedroom window had made him feel less alone, braver and given him the strength to come out to his family. He had kept his eyes firmly fixed on the star to the side of his father’s head as his announcement was met with silent fury. He’ll never forget the crushing weight on his chest when he heard that he was being sent to live with his aunt.

Even all these years later, as comfortable as he is with his sexuality, a small part of him still craves his family’s acceptance.

On that alien ship, the stars had been his only constant companion, other than the pain. Although he was amongst them, they had never felt further away. Wishing on them had seemed like a childish dream, nonetheless, every night he would wish on them for the pain to end, one way or another. It had been the only glimmer of hope he had ever allowed himself to have. As he half-fell, half-flew back through earth’s atmosphere it had seemed to him that his pleas had been answered.

Now sitting on the rooftop of the apartment building he was living in with his boyfriend, he feels that his childhood wishes may have come true as well.

“The sky looks beautiful tonight.” Andrew says, turning so now Midnighter is leaning on his chest. “You know that else looks beautiful?”

“You.”

Andrew laughs, burying his face in Midnighter’s shoulder. He’d read the joke on a website a couple of weeks ago and had been waiting for the right time to use it. He should have known it wouldn’t go as planned, not that he’s complaining. “You ruined it.”

“What?” Midnighter turns his head slightly. Though his tone was mainly playful, Andrew could hear a worried, bewildered edge to it.

“It’s a thing that kids say. One goes ‘the sky looks beautiful, you know what else is beautiful?’ and the second one goes ‘what?’ and then the first one says ‘me’.”

“Well I guess I skipped a step and went straight to you looking beautiful.” Andrew can’t see Midnighter’s face but he knows that he’s wearing that proud smile of his that he has whenever he does anything vaguely romantic.

He wraps his arms around Midnighter’s chest. “You know I think you might just be going sentimental on me.”

“You’re lucky I’m comfortable or else I would push you off the roof for such blasphemy.”

The sun disappears completely below the horizon. The city lights up like a mosaic before them. Even at this height, Andrew can hear the bustle of life below them without having to rely on his enhanced hearing.

“Blasphemy, huh? God forbid the Midnighter might show a feeling.”

“Now I’m really considering pushing you off the roof.” Midnighter leans back into the warmth of Andrew’s chest.

It’s at times like these that Andrew’s really grateful for the few inches he has on Midnighter. In this position, Midnighter fits neatly under his chin and against his chest. Though Midnighter grumbles when Andrew points this out, insisting that he’s not _that_  much shorter, Andrew knows that he secretly agrees.

It’s a far cry from the Midnighter he had first met. Back then, for all his bravado and flirting, Midnighter hadn’t let anyone get too close to him, scared that he would hurt them or that they’d end up leaving. Andrew had been the same. He had been so angry at the world, intent on keeping it at arm’s length so that no one could hurt him again. Then Midnighter had come into his life and broke down all his barriers, as he had done in return.

Looking up at the endless abyss above them, Andrew wonders, not for the first time, what had happened to the aliens who had taken him. When he had escaped, he had killed a good number of them, leaving the rest behind on an exploding ship. But some of them had to have survived. Were they looking for him now? No doubt they would be. They had probably gone back to their home planet to report what had happened and to get reinforcements. They could be on their way now with weapons, ready to capture him again. He wouldn’t go without a fight. But what if they went after Midnighter? He couldn’t let them hurt him. He would rather go with them then let them anywhere near Midnighter.

Midnighter shifts in his arms, turning his face back so that he can look at Andrew. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Andrew loosens his grip around Midnighter, letting the tension melt from his arms. “I was thinking about the aliens.”

Midnighter turns to face him fully. “They’re never getting to you again.” He says, cupping Andrew’s face in his hand, “I’ll kill them all before they ever lay a hand on you again.”

“You know, that might just be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.” Andrew leans forwards, their faces now centimetres apart.

“Oh?” Midnighter says, resting his forehead against Andrew’s, “I guess I’m just in in a romantic mood tonight.”

Andrew hums in agreement and then they’re kissing.

It’s not deep or passionate, nothing like the way they kiss after a battle or when he came back to life, but it’s nice, welcoming, a bit like returning home. And this is his home, here with Midnighter, where he could forget the world for a while and simply be.

Midnighter pulls back, looking at him with something akin to awe in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a second chance.”

They’ve had this conversation before, in different words, in different ways. In how Midnighter makes him coffee in the morning, how he takes him on dates all around the world and how he holds his hand as if he is scared Andrew will disappear if he lets go. In Andrew’s response of meeting those Midnighter cares about, in how he patches the worst of his wounds up after a fight and how he tightens his grip on Midnighter’s hand, _I’m not going anywhere_.

He let Midnighter walk away from him once and he’s not going to let him do it again, not without a fight.

Andrew smiles. “You earned it.”

Midnighter opens his mouth to reply but is cut off by a shrill ringing. He pulls out his phone, caller ID showing Tony, so when Midnighter looks at him with an apology in his eyes, he motions for him to answer.

Midnighter accepts the call, detangling himself from Andrew to go stand by the edge of the roof.

If he really wanted to, he could listen in on the conversation. But Midnighter trusts him not to and he respects him far too much to invade his privacy like that. Instead, he is content to lean back lazily and enjoy the stark silhouette of Midnighter against the backdrop of city lights.

It’s been a while since they had a night off.

Midnighter turns back towards him, a knowing smirk lighting up his face as he sees Andrew watching him. He ends the call, making his way back to him. “Tony’s got a job for us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos on this work, I honestly did not expect such a great response.   
> I'm going to aim to update it every 3-4 days or so but school starts again tomorrow and I'm starting year 12 (for those who use a different school system it's my last year of school, yay!) and I don't know how busy I will be but I'll try to stick to the schedule.   
> Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

They arrive at Al’s Masse minutes later. It’s fairly busy tonight, more than half the tables full and both pool tables in use. Nobody bats an eye as they enter through the actual door, in civilian clothing. Though Tony supports their crime fighting lifestyle, he has a no portal, no costume rule for when they come Al’s Masse.

The pool hall is exactly how Midnighter remembers it, warm and inviting. The constant smell of fried food hangs in the air; below it, the faint tang of the cleaning product Tony uses every night to wipe down the tables. The air buzzes with an alive but relaxed hum, voices filling the room but not so loud that Midnighter can’t pick out individual conversations.

The exception being the booth in the far corner.

It’s occupied by a ghost of a man. He slouches in his seat, clothes crumpled and unwashed, thick stubble growing unchecked on his cheeks. An untouched plate of food lays to the side, forgotten in favour of a glass of amber liquid. He was probably the one Tony had called him about.

_It wouldn’t even take five seconds_  the computer prompts him. He ignores it.

Behind the bar, Tony waves them over, grinning broadly. “And here’s my favourite dynamic duo.” He greets them.

Midnighter snorts, “No matter how hard you try, you’re not going to see me in scaly underwear and pixie boots.”

It had been a point of debate in the past but now that he had met the real deal, Midnighter can see all too well why the pants had been foregone. Grayson, it seems, can’t do anything by halves.

“All the more the shame. I bet you man over here wouldn’t mind seeing that.” Tony winks at Andrew who grins back.

“I’d hope he has better fashion sense than that.” He says.

Tony snorts, ‘You’re talking about the man whose costume is completely black leather.”

“Uniform.” Midnighter says, affronted, “And it’s made out of carbon fibre. At least it doesn’t get destroyed every second fight.”

Andrew sighs, “That’s true. I just can’t find a fabric strong enough.”

“You should ask your pal Superman.” Tony says, managing to maintain a straight face for only the first half of the sentence.

“If we ever meet him, I’m going to ask and when he laughs at me it’ll be your fault.”

“I can live with that.” Tony shrugs, picking up a glass and cloth. “You could ask Gergorio though, I’m sure he would magic you a solution.”

“I thought you didn’t like magic.” Midnighter says.

Tony shrugs again. “I don’t hate magic, I just think things should be done the old fashioned way. Everything happens for a reason and all that.”

Midnighter shakes his head in mock confusion, “I will never understand your strange human ways.”

“It might work,” Andrew cuts in, seriously considering the suggestion, “I spend way too much money on replacing suits.”

“Aw, but it’s always been such a good look for you.” Midnighter smirks, sidling closer to him.

Tony throws his cloth down with a huff, “Alright, alright. Keep your flirting for later, I did call you here for a reason.” And with that his face goes serious. “That’s your guy in the far booth. Go easy on him, he’s had a hard couple of weeks.”

So Midnighter had been right.

The man looks worse closer up. With the stench rolling off him, he’s probably drunk more than he has eaten the past week. Hasn’t showered in that long too. Purple bags hang under his unfocused eyes, _not sleeping well either_.

He looks up from his drink as Midnighter and Andrew slide into the booth opposite him. “You the ones Tony was talking about?” He asks voice hoarse.

Andrew nods. “I’m Apollo and this is Midnighter. We’re here to help Mr. -?”

“Herring. Peter Herring.”

Midnighter leans back, crossing his arms. “Apollo and I specialise in punching people. Hard. And we’ve been told you have someone who needs punching.”

Peter looks at them appraisingly before nodding. “Two weeks ago – two weeks ago I go to visit my brother and I find him and his wife dead on the floor and their baby missing.” Peter lets out a wet laugh, running his and roughly through his hair. “Jesus. So I go to the police but they don’t do nothing.” He laughs again, a short, abrupt sound.

Midnighter swears under his breath. Beside him, Apollo hands curl into fists underneath the table. _Human trafficking_  the computer supplies him, and he knows it’s right. Child gone, parents dead, it has to be some kind of child trafficking ring. He hates it when a job has to do with children. He never got a childhood with spending his teenage years with Bendix and the Gardener and any of his life from before that wiped from his memory. Maybe that’s why he’s so protective of kids and protective of anyone who has their freedom stripped from them. He’s spent so much of his life trying to convince himself that nobody, not Bendix, not the Gardner, _nobody_  owned him but himself. No one owns another human being, and anyone who thinks they can? He has a fist ready for them.

“Do you know who did this, Peter?” Apollo asks gently.

“No, not for sure.” Peter scans the pool hall nervously, “But Mick was doing some dealings with the Red Riders lately, y’know for some extra cash for the baby.”

Apollo is tense besides him. Midnighter knows that Apollo hates people who mess with kids just as much as he does. “What would a gang want with a baby?”

“I dunno. She’s only a couple of weeks old.”

Midnighter eyes Peter as he shifts in his seat. His hands flit about, picking on the bottom of his shirt, wringing his fingers together. His eyes meet Midnighter’s for a second before darting away. “Why would the Red Riders go after your brother and his family?” Midnighter leans forward, voice a threatening growl. Apollo shoots him a warning glance. He doesn’t like it when Midnighter intimidates someone he thinks is innocent. Apollo isn’t as cynical as he it, he trusts people more, always looks for the best in them.

That’s why he loves him. And the reason Apollo gave him a second chance.

But Midnighter doesn’t have that luxury, not when there’s a child’s life at stake.

“Like I said man, Mick was doing some dealings with them. But I dunno why they would do this. It’s not their usual gig, and I can’t think of what they would want with her. Maybe it wasn’t them, I dunno man but that’s all I got.”

Midnighter relaxes his posture slightly, satisfied. In this, at least, Peter is telling the truth.

“Then that’s where we’re going first.” Midnighter rolls his shoulders. “I think it’s time we stopped using our heads and go crack some Red Riders skulls. See if they have anything to say for themselves.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Herring, we’re going to find your niece.” Apollo says, standing up from the booth.

Midnighter follows Apollo, “And we’re going to teach the bastards who took her a lesson.”

The computer hums in excitement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I suck. But here's a slightly longer chapter than usual with a special guest to make up for it. Hopefully I'll be able to stick to schedule, or at least to a better schedule, after this but at this point I can make no promises.
> 
> 26/12 Edit: I wasn't really happy with the end half of this chapter so I re-wrote it. None of the important plot points changed, I just like how this is written better.

It doesn’t take long for them to track down the Red Riders. From all accounts, they sound like a small-time biker gang, which raises the question ‘what do they want with a baby’ and ‘why is it so important that they would kill for it’? Midnighter rolls his shoulders in anticipation. Soon he would have answers to those questions and he would have the chance to crack some skulls together while doing it.

This job has him on edge and he will be glad when it is over, and the child safely returned to her uncle. T _hat is, if she is still alive_. Midnighter pushes the thought aside, they wouldn’t take the child just to kill her somewhere else, they just have had a reason, a reason that needed her to be alive. He clenches and unclenches his fist to release some of the tension coursing through his body and tightening his shoulders. She’s still alive, he’s sure of it.

“Well they certainly aren’t hiding.” Apollo says, looking up at the seedy building in front of them. Loud music and shouts emanate from the half boarded up windows and a small neon sign above the door proclaims ‘Red Riders’. Motorcycles litter the sidewalk and spill out onto the street.

The door to the biker bar swings open, a young man in a studded, black leather jacket steps out. He freezes halfway out the door at the sight of them, before disappearing back inside, shouting a warning. As he turns, Midnighter can see a red motorcycle emblazoned on the back of the jacket. He rolls his eyes, _amateurs_ , and just when he thought his night was about to get interesting.

“So much for a welcoming committee.” He says.

Apollo grins at him, then motions towards the bar. “Shall we?”

Right. Business time.

The door falls off its hinges under his foot, hitting the wall with a satisfying crack.

Already the young man’s warning had taken effect. Mayhem rings out throughout the bar, with gang members rushing to grab their weapons, running into each other in a disorganised mess. Someone shuts off the music. Midnighter walks with slow, steady steps to the centre of the room, smirking as the gang members form ranks, creating a tight semi-circle around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Apollo lean against the wall, crossing his arms and studying the few men with guns trained on him in amusement.

They stand there, seemingly at a stalemate, Midnighter perfectly content to wait for the leader of the gang to muster up enough courage to reveal himself.

_The man directly to his left first. Break his nose. Grab his gun. Throw it at the man in the red bandana, knocking him out cold. Kick the man to his right in the stomach into the path of the three men behind him. The one with the shaking hands will shoot. Dodge. Break his wrist. Punch the guy to his left. Dodge bullet. Kick –_

A man saunters forwards, breaking Midnighter away from the computer’s musings. He comes to a stop just in front of his men – forward enough to look important but far enough away that he can quickly get behind his men if things go south.

“We don’t want your kind around here, you costumed freak.” He says.

Midnighter tuts, shaking his head as if scolding a child, “Now there’s no need to be rude, we just want about to have a little chat about Mick Herring’s daughter.”

Several of the men shift, one curses under his breath, Midnighter’s enhanced hearing picking it up clearly. The leader remains stone faced, “We don’t have anything to do with that.”

Midnighter steps forward. Instantly, hands tighten on guns as the ‘Rider’s tense. “See now, lying isn’t going to get you anywhere. I don’t like people who mess with kids. And Apollo over there? He really doesn’t like it when people mess with kids.” Apollo flexes his muscles, baring his teeth in a grin as a dozen eyes flit nervously in his direction. “So it’ll be in all our best interests if you tell us where she is.”

“Fuck you,” the leader spits, “You come in here, in ‘Rider territory, and think you can threaten us?” A few of his men jeer in agreement. “You and your boyfriend over there don’t scare me.”

“Think about your next words very carefully.” Midnighter cuts in, “I have a computer in my brain that lets me see every move you’re going to make. I already won this fight the second I walked through that door. You can tell me what I want to know now, or I can break a few jaws and then you can tell me.”

He sees a flicker of uncertainty cross the leaders face before it’s covered by blustering confidence. “Shoot them.”

Midnighter surges into action. Dodge. Punch. Kick. Dodge. Throw. Three men down. Head-butt. Dodge. Punch. Another two down.

The fight blurs into a rush of adrenaline and fists as he lets the computer lead his actions. And with one last satisfying punch it’s over, a pile of unconscious, broken men surrounding him. Apollo stands in the middle of his own pile, hand twisted in the leader’s shirt, dangling him a few feet off the ground.

The man struggles in his hold, spitting curses. Apollo shakes him to shut him up. “Where’s the baby?”

“I don’t know.”

Midnighter stalks over to Apollo’s side.

“What have you done with her?” Apollo demands.

“Go to hell.” Apollo’s eyes flare and he lifts the leader another few inches in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you.” He takes a moment to compose himself. “We don’t have her, we never wanted her in the first place. I was approached by some Gotham hotshot. Said they wanted a baby no one’d miss without it leading back to them. Paid me big. I didn’t have anything against Mick but business’s business.”

Midnighter’s lip curls in disgust.

“Who approached you?”

“La Cosa Nostra. I gave them the kid; don’t know what they want with it. That’s all I know.”

Apollo looks over at Midnighter. “He’s telling the truth.” Midnighter confirms. With one last glare at him, Apollo throws the leader away from him as if he weighed nothing. He hits the opposite wall with a crack and a moan of pain.

Midnighter offers Apollo his arm, “To Gotham?”

Apollo takes his arm, “To Gotham.”

***

If Midnighter had to pick his top ten favourite cities, Gotham would be up there. Its teeming underground, high crime rates and ever-growing number of costumed villains could keep him interested for weeks. It’s a shame that it’s already been claimed by possibly the only man who wears more black than him, and who doesn’t like to share. (And Midnighter’s been mistaken for Batman enough times to want to punch him in the face)

Apollo, on the other hand, doesn’t share his enthusiasm. His nose crinkles adorably as he surveys the grungy city with its grimy streets and unusual amount of gargoyles.

But Midnighter isn’t here to sightsee. A child has been stolen from her family, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t bring her home.

“Who’s your contact again?” Apollo asks.

“Nemesis.” He corrects.

Apollo laughs. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it.”

“You’re damn right I do.” Apollo leans forwards, then stops, his eyes straying past Midnighter. “That him?” he jerks his head to something, or presumably someone, behind Midnighter.

Midnighter turns around, catching sight of a familiar black and blue figure swinging across rooftops. Their eyes meet, and he changes direction mid-swing, now moving towards the rooftop on which he and Apollo are waiting.

“Midnighter.” Nightwing greets, slowing to a stop. “What brings you to Gotham?” His smile is as wide and easy going as always but Midnighter can see the suspicion lining his form. Not unwarranted, of course, they’ve worked equally with and against each other in the past.

“Following a lead.” Apollo smoothly interjects with a grin that rivals Nightwing’s. “I’m Apollo.” He offers his hand.

“Nightwing.” Grayson shakes his hand. “What’s the case?”

“A baby’s been kidnapped, her parents killed.” Nightwing’s face darkens at Midnighter’s words. “We’ve linked it back to ‘La Cosa Nostra’. What do you know about them?”

“They used to rule the East End. Huntress shut them down a few years ago. Although, I heard that Santo Cassamento was released from prison a little while ago so it’s possible he’s trying to restart the business. As far as I know, they’ve never drabbled in human trafficking though.”

“Do you know where to find them?” Apollo asks.

“No, but I know someone who will.” Nightwing walks to the side of the rooftop, talking to someone on his comm.

“So that’s your nemesis?” Apollo side eyes Midnighter. “He’s not exactly what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Someone bigger, angrier, more inclined to throw a punch.”

“Trust me, he can pack a punch.”

“I was trained by the best.” Nightwing smirks, turning back to face them. “I’ve got a location.”

***

The location turns out to be the upper floor of an office building, heavily guarded and still lit up; even at this hour of the night. From their position on a neighbouring building, Midnighter can see straight through the ceiling to floor windows to the meeting taking place inside. Five men in suits are sitting around a table, with five bodyguards evenly spaced around them. They would be easy enough to take care of, especially with the help of Apollo and Nightwing.

“Through the window?” Nightwing suggests nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth betraying his excitement. Apollo and Midnighter’s responding grins are answers enough.

In a practiced move, Midnighter launches himself off the rooftop, Apollo catching his hands in his own before he even starts to fall. Apollo moves with their momentum, flying towards their target, Nightwing swinging beside them. Just before they reach the window, Apollo throws Midnighter forwards into the window.

Midnighter crashes through, spraying shattered glass and lands on the table in a crouch, Nightwing and Apollo entering behind him. Alarmed shouts fill the air as the mobsters flinch back from them and their bodyguards reach for their guns.

“I hope we’re not interrupting something.” Nightwing quips.

Midnighter snorts, “You know, I have the feeling we are.”

The door bursts open and more guards charge in, guns trained on the three of them but not yet shooting. “Nightwing,” A grey-haired man with a large receding hairline says, “You have no right to be here.”

“Well you see,” Nightwing says easily, seemingly at ease but Midnighter can see the way he tenses, preparing for the inevitable fight, “My friends here got a tip that you’re the one to blame for the disappearance of a kid.”

Cassamento flinches at this, such a small movement that anyone else would have missed it. Midnighter sees the flicker of fear in his eyes and the way his breath catches. There’s still something that they are missing, something that would evoke such a response from Cassamento.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cassamento growls, “I’ve done nothing you can convict me of, so I suggest you leave.”

Apollo sighs. “We’ve already been through this once tonight and I don’t have the patience for a second time. Tell us what you’ve done with the baby or we’ll beat it out of you.”

Cassamento’s face scrunches with rage and at a hand gesture, the guards converge on them. Midnighter and Nightwing dodge the spray of bullets, Apollo taking them head on. The computer whirls into action, urging him to punch and kick and kill. He resists the last one, he told Grayson that he would play by his rules when working with him and he isn’t about to break that promise now.

He knocks the closest guard unconscious with a kick to the head, not pausing as he allows the momentum to carry him to his next opponent. He falls into an easy rhythm; punch, kick, dodge, punch. The mobsters scatter, fleeing from the room. When Cassamento attempts to follow them, Apollo catches him by the back of his collar, throwing him back into the room. Nightwing catches Midnighter’s eye and with a brief nod, disappears further into the office.

Midnighter dodges another set of bullets, punching the offender in the face and hitting his friend in the face with his gun. Punch. Dodge. Punch. Throw. Kick. He takes out three more guards, a fourth quickly following them. Apollo takes down the remaining guard and the fights over.

Cassamento clambers to his feet, brushing down his suit and sniffing indignantly. “I don’t know what kind of amateurs you’re used to dealing with, but I can assure you I am not one of them. I don’t know anything about this child you are speaking of and even if I did you would get nothing from me.”

Apollo grins. “We don’t need to. That’s the thing about the digital age. All the information you need can be found simply by hacking a computer.”

“And I happen to know an excellent hacker.” Nightwing says from the doorway, holding up a USB stick. “Turns out there’s more to this than you think. There’s another player, an organisation called Cerberus. Everything’s on here.” He tosses the USB to Midnighter.

Cassamento pales.

Midnighter stalks forward, smiling in a way that he knows is unsettling. “We didn’t even have to come here at all. But I don’t like it when people mess with kids. This is how it easy it was for us to get to you. If Nightwing wasn’t here, you’d be dead by now. Just something for you to think about at night.”

They return to the other rooftop, leaving Cassamento amongst his fallen bodyguards.

“Thanks for your help.” Apollo says to Nightwing.

“Anytime.” Nightwing says, “As long as you don’t kidnap me to get it.” He glares at Midnighter but there’s no heat behind it.

Midnighter grins unapologetically.

Nightwing readies his grapnel. “Good luck with the case, and make sure you get that kid home.” And with that he swings out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, this is set in a mash of new52 and post-crisis. That means that there are two Helena Bertinelli's - the one who is Huntress and the one who is Matron who just happen to have the same name. Also for anyone who caught that Dick was talking to Oracle, in this Oracle is Babs who is still paralysed and the current Batgirl is Steph (although neither of them will be making an appearance in the story). Feel free to ask any questions you have about who's who in this universe or what events have happened or any of that stuff.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! I'm sorry it's been so long, but chapter five is already written so hopefully updates become more regular now that it's the holidays. My goal is to finish this by the end of January but we'll see how it goes. 
> 
> Merry Christmas / Happy Hanukkah / Happy Holidays to everyone!

It really is exquisite. Over two thousand years old and still intact. Apollo has to admire its durability, if not it’s craftmanship. Whoever had made it had clearly been a master. _‘Xiphos.’_  the plaque read, _‘The secondary weapon of the Spartan Hoplite. Used for close quarter combat due to its short length and easy manoeuvrability. c.490 BC’_  It’s plain looking, and over the years the metal has lost the sheen it doubtlessly would have had once, the blade nicked and scratched and yet, despite all that, looking at it makes Apollo’s chest compress in an emotion he can’t fully comprehend.

Not quite sadness, not quite respect, but a bitter-sweet combination of the two. A sort of kinship.

Apollo feels a hand brush his. Looking up he sees Midnighter’s reflection in the glass, standing just behind and to his left. “You ready?” Midnighter asks softly. Apollo nods, tearing his eyes away from the display case, turning to face Midnighter.

It’s been a week since he first heard of ‘Cerberus’. As far as he can tell, they’re an underground organisation with their fingers in many major political events, always hiding in the shadows, more of a ghost story than anything concrete. Any leads he or Midnighter uncovered had turned out to be dead ends, finding nothing that could prove ‘Cerberus’s’ existence. Then one of Midnighter’s contacts had called in.

And so here they are, at the opening night of a new museum exhibit in England showcasing the new finds of archaeologist Thomas Richards. The discovery of the only surviving Xiphos yet found is an important one. Up ‘til now the only evidence that the Xiphos had ever existed was ancient writings and illustrations. Richards himself is going to make an appearance and speech to commemorate the excavation.

The contact had said that ‘Cerberus’ helped to fund the expedition, but that they knew nothing more. As such, Richards is the only lead that he and Midnighter have to go on.

“Any sign of him yet?”

“No,” Midnighter says, “But we have all night, may as well enjoy it.” He gestures to the adjacent hall, “After all, when else are you going to have the chance to eat fancy food with the rich and famous?”

Apollo hums. “Well the food is very fancy.” With one last longing glance at the exhibition, he follows Midnighter into the jaws of the beast.

The sense of calm dissipates as soon as he enters the room. Apollo _likes_  meeting new people, talking and making friends, he’s _good_  at it. But this? A gala with press and people wearing clothing that costs more than his rent? He doesn’t even know where to begin.

The hall is impressive, high ceilinged with white columns lining either side and a shining marble floor. A live band plays at one end on a raised platform and at the other, a long table filled with platters of bite sized servings. The centre of the room is occupied by dancing couples, leaving the empty spaces to groups of chatting people.

Making his way over to the buffet, Apollo watches as Midnighter approaches some senator or other. He listens as they greet each other and Midnighter smoothly delivers his reason for being there. They’d spent an hour discussing possible cover stories, each more ridiculous than the last. Midnighter is Edward Hunt, a wealthy American businessman interested in ancient history, weaponry in particular.

Turning back to the buffet, Apollo surveys the food. He doesn’t know what any of the dishes are called but they look good. He hesitantly picks up a plate, unsure of if he is meant to use his fingers or if there are servers.

“This your first gala?” A young, female voice asks him.

Apollo grins at her sheepishly. “Am I that obvious?”

“A little.” She’s around his age, with long blonde hair in curls and a deep blue dress. “Don’t worry, you’re doing fine.” She starts to pile food onto her plate and he follows her lead. “I’m Emily.” She turns to him expectantly.

Apollo doesn’t hesitate. “James.” He feels his confidence returning. This he can do. “But my friends call me Apollo.” Midnighter would probably be more amused than annoyed at his break in character, but he doesn’t think Emily will connect him to the costume. Apollo is a small time American hero after all.

Emily looks at him for a moment before smiling. “You’re really into all this Ancient Greek stuff, then?”

“Yeah.” Apollo says, “I actually -”

“Emily! There you are.” He’s cut off by a boisterous middle aged man who wraps his arm around Emily’s shoulders. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

“I was just getting something to eat.” Emily says. “Dad, this is James.” 

He shakes Apollo’s hand before saying, “Do you mind if I steal my daughter for a moment? There’s someone who I want to introduce her to.” He looks at Apollo appraisingly. “Then again, I’d say she’s already met someone worth talking to.”

“Dad!” Emily hits his arm lightly. Apollo rubs the back of his neck, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you.” She all but drags her father away.

Minutes later, Apollo finds himself roped into a conversation with three older women. He lets himself fall into the rhythm of the conversation, making sounds of agreement where appropriate but otherwise staying silent. He scans the hall, noticing Richards entering from the exhibition room. He catches Midnighter’s eye, motioning discreetly to their target. Midnighter nods his understanding and signals for him to ‘stay put’.

The conversation around him as veered to gossip about people he’s never heard of before. He gets lost amidst what Mindy had said to Nancy, something about Juan, whoever that is.

“May I have this dance?” A familiar voice cuts through Mrs Fisher’s (call me Mia), shocked outrage. Apollo turns to his saviour with an assessing eye.

“Me?” He feigns surprise. He hears the women whisper amongst themselves.

Midnighter offers his hand. “I swore to myself that tonight I would dance with the most handsome man in the room.”

“Flattery, it seems,” Apollo says as he takes his hand, “Will get you anywhere.” He looks back at his companions, “Excuse me ladies.”

Midnighter leads him to the centre of the hall where several other couples are poised, waiting for the music to begin. Just as they settle into position, with Midnighter leading, the first chords play. Midnighter steers them through the other dancers, maintaining enough distance so that their conversation can’t be overheard.

“What do we do now?” Apollo asks.

“We need a way of luring him out of the room.” Midnighter says, “To somewhere secluded where we can – hang on a minute.” He cuts himself off, “I know him.”

Apollo follows his eyes to a waiter with a platter of champagne flutes. He looks middle eastern, with a light beard and, strangely enough, three markings on his forehead. Even stranger though is the hazy distortion around the edges and as he looks away, Apollo finds he can’t remember what the man looks like.

They break away, leaving the dance floor and heading in the waiter’s direction, though Apollo suspects that he isn’t, in fact, a waiter. The man sees them coming and stiffens as if preparing for a confrontation. Then, as his eyes land on Midnighter, a flash of recognition crosses his face. He smoothly puts the tray down and signals for them to follow him in one motion, disappearing through a doorway, but looking no less ready to fight.

“Midnighter.” The man greets them, “And Apollo, I presume.” It isn’t quite a question.

“Agent 1.” Midnighter says in return, “Spyral’s top agent. What brings you here?”

Agent 1 hesitates for a moment, and Apollo can hear a tiny voice emanating from his ear. A communication device. “Thomas Richards.” He says finally, “He has some information that Spyral desires.”

“Information on ‘Cerberus’?” Apollo says.

Agent 1 regards him steadily. “Yes. Then our interests coincide?”

“I guess so.” Midnighter says, leaning against the wall, “So what do you say, another team up with Spyral?”  The question is addressed to both Apollo and Agent 1 equally.

Agent 1 listens to the voice again. “Very well.” He agrees. “My plan was to escort him here under the guise of preparing him for his speech. Then we can interrogate him. Is that satisfactory?”

Apollo and Midnighter indicate their agreement. Agent 1 slips away through the door. “He seems nice.” Apollo says.

“Used to be Nightwing’s partner, back when he was with Spyral.”

“Really?” Apollo says, “And he didn’t kill him?”

“The way Nightwing tells it, there were a few close calls, but Agent 1 loves him deep down.”

“Of course.” Apollo agrees.

The door opens and Agent 1 reappears with Thomas Richards in tow. Richards stops short when he sees Midnighter and Apollo. “What is this?” He asks warily.

“Nothing.” Agent 1 says evenly, “You are safe here.”

“Yes. I am safe here.” Richards sounds dazed.

“What’s going on?” Apollo asks Midnighter in a whisper.

“Hypnos implants. Not quite mind control, more like a suggestion.”

“Makes interrogations easier.” Apollo observes.

“Eh.” Midnighter cracks his knuckles, “I prefer the good old-fashioned way.”

Apollo turns his attention back to Agent 1 and Richards. “What is your connection to ‘Cerberus’?” Agent 1 asks.

“They funded a large part of my expedition.”

“Why?”

“They have a large interest in Ancient Greece. They believed that I could uncover something of great importance.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

Richards’ face scrunches. “I – I can’t tell you that.”

“It is okay.” Agent 1 soothes him, “You are safe here. You can tell me.”

“No, no I can’t.” Richards protests, “They are threatening my son.”

“Who are?” Agent 1 urges, “Tell me and I can protect him.”

Richards just shakes his head.

At the other end of the hallway the door slams open and three men march in. Each one is wearing armour similar to that which was worn in Ancient Greece. All three carry a circular shield, a spear and a sword, which Apollo recognises as a Xiphos. The first two stand side by side, shields raised, the third just behind them with his shield covering their heads. Their spears stick out from between the gaps.

“Cerberus agents.” Agent 1 says.

Beside Apollo, Midnighter grins. “Finally. This was starting to get boring.” He launches himself towards the trio, Agent 1 not far behind.

Apollo hesitates. In such close quarters flying is impossible and he can’t risk solar-blasts in case he hits Midnighter or Agent 1. Looking back and Richards, the man has sunk to the ground, muttering ‘I can’t tell’ over and over. On his other side, the wall of shields holds steady against Midnighter and Agent 1’s attacks.

Apollo joins the fray, barrelling into the two front men, knocking them over. After that, taking them out is easy. The door opens again and more men burst through. The unconscious forms of their fallen comrades act as a barrier between the two groups, whoever has to step over them would be putting themselves at a disadvantage.

“We should go.” Agent 1 says.

Midnighter sighs. “You’re no fun.” He conjures a door.

The three of them run for the door, the Cerberus agents leaping over the fallen to follow them. As they pass him, Apollo hauls Richards to his feet and pushes him ahead of him. The four of them disappear through the door, Midnighter closing it just as the Cerberus agents reach it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that symbolism/foreshadowing/allegories are my favourite literary techniques? Because they are, I love them so much. Why is it that I seem to get more poetic when writing from Apollo's perspective?
> 
> Also I edited chapter 3 a bit because I didn't like the ending, if anyone wants to check that out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this chapter exactly a year ago (new years eve 2016), before I decided to turn it into a fully fledged fic. It was interesting to see how much my writing style has changed as I heavily edited, and often re-wrote large chunks of, this chapter. 
> 
> Happy New Year everybody! I hope 2018 is a wonderful year for you all.

Midnighter shifts restlessly. He doesn’t like waiting, especially when a child’s life is in danger. If it were up to him the kid would be safely tucked away somewhere and he would be lying in wait for the Cerberus assassin when they arrived. But Matron wants the agent captured and so, as much as Midnighter dislikes it, they’re using the kid as bait.

Richards had turned on Cerberus once he realised Spyral was his son’s best chance of getting out of this alive. He hadn’t known much, but enough to verify Cerberus’ existence, enough for Cerberus to see him as a threat.

Matron has Agent 23 on site, ready to signal when the assassin enters the high-rise apartment building where the boy has been staying. Agent 28 has been placed in disguise as a body guard for the boy while Midnighter and Agent 11 stand by for 28’s conformation that the Cerberus assassin has entered the suite. Apollo is on aerial support in case the assassin is meta or tries to escape on some kind of flying transportation.

The kid will be safe, Midnighter will make sure of that. It’s just a matter of whether or not he will be there to ensure that safety.

Apollo puts a calming hand on Midnighter’s shoulder, sensing his irritation. The computer instantly grumbles at him, but he ignores it with practiced ease, looking up at Apollo who smiles reassuringly, silently conveying his faith in him. Midnighter places his hand over Apollo’s, giving it a slight squeeze in acknowledgement.

Behind them the monitor crackles to life. “The assassin has entered the building.” Agent 23 says, her voice pitched low.

“Give them a twenty second head start then follow.” Matron orders her before turning to Apollo.

“I guess that’s my cue.” He says and Matron nods in agreement. With one more, quick grin at Midnighter, Apollo takes off.

The room falls into a tense silence as they wait for Agent 28’s signal. Midnighter counts out the seconds in his head. At one hundred and eighty-two Apollo should be in position. Depending on the Cerberus assassin’s approach, they should arrive at the room between one hundred and ninety and two hundred and thirty-eight seconds.

Two hundred and thirty-eight comes and goes. Matron looks at Midnighter inquiringly.

He shakes his head.  

Matron turns to the monitor, “Agent 28 report.”

There’s no reply.

“Agent 28?”

Silence.

Matron spins to face Midnighter and Agent 11. “Get in there. Now!”

Midnighter needs not further prompting, summoning a door and disappearing through, Agent 11 hot on his heels.

The first thing he sees are the limp forms of the nanny and Agent 28. _Unconscious but still alive_  the computer supplies. The Cerberus assassin stands over them, half blocking his view of the boy, who is terrified but unharmed.

Midnighter feels the anger rise in him like a stab to the gut. Now that he properly looks at the Cerberus assassin he realises how small they are, barely reaching his chest. They turn towards him, revealing their delicate and _young_  facial features. _Eleven years, twelve at the most_  the computer concludes. They shift into a battle stance, muscles tense but devoid of all emotion. Their dark eyes are like voids, taking in everything around them but cold and lifeless.

Agent 11 pulls out her gun and trains it on the assassin. Midnighter can see no shock in her. Spyral had known what they had come to fight.

The uniform that the assassin wears is similar to that of the agents that he had fought the day before. Several layers of linen make up the shirt and leggings, thick and strong enough to impede a sword. A leather tunic and strap skirt provide more protection to vulnerable chest and stomach. Knee high boots covered by greaves made of tough leather completes the uniform. With his practiced eye, and fight computer, Midnighter can recognise the slight budges that indicate hidden weapons strategically placed across their person. The whole thing is stylised enough that walking down a street it would merely be seen as an eccentric fashion choice rather than armour.

“Stand down kid.” Midnighter says, “You can’t win this fight. I’ve already played out this scenario a million different ways, I know each move you’ll make before you do, hand over the kid and I won’t have to hurt you.”

The assassin just looks at him with their impassive eyes

The silence draws out, moment by moment. The computer growls at him – _act now_ , it says, _before they do_. Midnighter ignores it. He knows what’s going to happen next and is curious to see how it goes down.

Finally, Agent 11 steps forward.

“Move away from the child.”

And in that second the assassin explodes into action. Midnighter sidesteps the knife aimed at his heart, hearing a dull thud as it lodges itself in the wall behind him. A groan and he knows the second knife has found its mark. A quick glance shows Agent 11 hunched over, one arm limp, blood coursing from the hilt protruding from her shoulder.

“Go. Hide in the bathroom.” Midnighter tells Richard’s son. The boy doesn’t move, frozen from fear. “Go!” He shouts, and the boy startles then takes off further into the apartment.

The assassin sends a knife flying after the boy. Midnighter intercepts it with book.

A clatter sounds behind him as the knife Agent 11 pulls from her shoulder is dropped. Her gun raises once again as she open fires. As the assassin expertly dodges the bullets, Midnighter moves to the side, content to watch the fight play out.

The assassin gets in close, quickly disarming Agent 11. They exchange blows, Agent 11 at a disadvantage due to her injury. It’s quickly evident that there will be only one outcome to this fight. A carefully placed strike leaves Agent 11 unconscious, face down next to the couch.

For a moment, Midnighter and the assassin simply consider each other.

A smile rises to his lips. _This is going to be fun_.

The computer signals its agreement.

Two throwing knives fly towards his face. He dodges one, hitting aside the other. Then the small body is in front of him. He blocks a blow that would leave him paralysed and defenceless. Another few blows which he dodges and blocks. A hand connects with his chin, snapping his head back. They break apart, Midnighter working his jaw. “Heh, you’re a good fighter.” Another dodged kick to his face.

The assassin doesn’t reply. He didn’t expect them to.

“How’d you end up working for Cerberus?” He continues to play defence. Their style is an interesting mix of modern and ancient martial arts.

“Let me guess, it wasn’t consensual?” The detachedness in the way the assassin moves throws his computer slightly. Without an emotional influence its harder to predict. Midnighter likes the challenge.

“I know a bit about that. Being forced to fight someone else’s fight, I mean.”

The door crashes open as Agent 23 finally reaches the apartment. She quickly takes in the situation, raises her gun and fires at the assassin, forcing them back and away from Midnighter.

“Where’s the kid?”

Midnighter gestures down the hall. “Hiding in the bathroom. Get him out of there, I can handle the assassin.”

Agent 23 nods in agreement. She keeps her gun trained on the assassin as she edges past the two of them. The assassin watches her go but makes no move to intercept. As soon as she disappears from sight, Midnighter once again has the assassin’s full attention.

They pull out a deadly looking dagger.

Midnighter’s smile turns feral. _Come at me then_.

This time he plays attack. The assassin flips away from a series of punches, landing in a crouch on the back of the couch. Midnighter gives them no time to think.

He presses his advantage, dodging swipes of the dagger. One catches him on the arm, opening a long but shallow cut. It will heal in minutes.

A kick lands on the assassin’s chest, sending them flying back into the wall. “Sorry.” He says as they pick themselves up, “I really don’t want to hurt you.” He doesn’t miss that they give no indication of pain, even though he distinctly heard a rib crack.

 _What the hell did Cerberus do to this kid_?

Agent 23 re-enters the room, Richards’ son clutching the back of her leg. Once again, she trains her gun on the assassin, whose eyes fixate on the boy.

Without warning, the assassin springs forward in one last attempt to get to the kid.

Midnighter steps into their path. He catches the assassin’s wrist, twisting it in a grip that forces their fingers to spasm and drop the dagger. The assassin swings forward, using the hold he has on their arm to propel them over his head. Their legs wrap around his neck, swivelling and using their momentum to flip him over onto his back.

The assassin is up before he is, rolling across the floor and rising with Agent 11’s gun in hand. They look to the doorway, but Agent 23 and the child are long gone. Midnighter rises, ready to continue fighting. However, they don’t spare him a second glance, instead running full tilt at the wall of glass, shooting at it as they go. They jump, breaking through the weakened glass, body curled up in a ball, arms protecting their face from the shards.

He lets them go. He has Apollo for these kinds of things.

The assassin free falls for a second before spreading out their limbs to optimise air resistance. They reach into their tunic but before they can pull anything out Apollo swoops in. He catches them in a hug like grip so that their arms are pinned to their sides. The assassin immediately begins to struggle but can’t break free from Apollo’s superhuman strength.

Apollo flies the both of them up and through the broken panel of glass to land by Midnighter’s side.

The assassin rams their head back into Apollo’s, forcing a grunt out of him and his arms to loosen. Before they can press their advantage, however, Midnighter is in front of them, holding one of their own knives to their throat. He studies their eyes, disappointed to find that he still can’t see any trace emotion.

The assassin raises their chin, meeting his gaze steadily but relaxes slightly to signal defeat.

Midnighter smirks approvingly. He reaches up to turn on his com unit.

“Matron, we have the assassin.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You knew.”

The words are harsh and thick with anger. Apollo rests a calming hand on Midnighter’s arm, halting his advance. He looks between him and Matron, whose face is carefully blank. Midnighter’s muscles are tense with rage under his fingers and Apollo feels a spark of anger igniting in his gut, whatever had riled Midnighter up this much had to be bad.

“Knew what?” He asks.

“About them.” Midnighter gestures at the monitor. The display shows live footage from the security camera trained on the assassin’s cell. “You knew we were going to fight a kid.”

Matron studies him for a moment. “I did suspect it, yes.”

The spark erupts into a flame. Apollo forces his hand to loosen on Midnighter’s arm. “And you didn’t think to tell us? We’re partners in this, not one of your agents.”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was relevant.” Matron says, unfazed. “Cerberus occasionally uses child agents, but I didn’t think they would send one this time, not with them knowing that there was a chance we would show up.”

This time, when Midnighter steps forward, Apollo doesn’t stop him. “What else hasn’t been ‘relevant’?”

Matron turns to the monitor. “Cerberus is an organisation primarily based upon the values of Sparta. Their agents are known as Hoplites, named after the Spartan warriors. That’s who you fought at the gala. They’re just basic foot soldiers who don’t know much about the organisation. Once they reach a certain security level they join the Ekklesia.”

She pulls up an image of an assembly hall filled with people wearing masks.

“I have an agent in the Ekklesia. Its main function seems to be voting on whether to accept or reject the motions put forward by the Gerousia and Ephors. We’ve been able to identify some of the members but none of them have been able to give us much information. It seems that the members and inner workings of the higher branches are closely guarded secrets.

“The Ephors are made up of five members of the Ekklesia, elected each year. We don’t know much about their roles, except for the creation of motions. The Gerousia is made of twenty-eight members. They deal with the internal issues and can veto any decision made by the Ekklesia if they wish. We don’t know anything about who they are, but according to the Spartan Gerousia they would be made up of the elite. Most likely they are in prominent positions of power in governments throughout the world.”

The door to the room slides open and Agent 1 enters. Matron looks at him in askance. He nods his head briefly then moves to stand by the far wall. Apollo watches him for a moment, turning his attention back to Matron as she begins to speak again.

_What was that all about?_

“The highest position of power in Cerberus is that of the two kings. They go by the codenames ‘Agiad’ and ‘Eurypondid’ after the two family lines that the kings of Sparta were chosen from. We don’t know if these positions are hereditary, but it’s likely that they are.”

Apollo rubs at his temple. It’s a lot of information to take in, and none of it good.

“And what about the kids?” Midnighter presses. “How do they fit in all of this?”

Matron switches the monitor back to the feed of the assassin. They haven’t moved from the cross-legged position they were in before. Their eyes are closed and breathing steady, face blank. A shiver runs down Apollo’s spine.

“We’ve encountered a few before, both adults and children. I don’t know what Cerberus does to them, but my agents have reported that they’re emotionless, that they care very little about their personal safety.” Matrons hands clench the edge of the desk. “My guess is that they’re taken young and turned into living weapons.”

Midnighter swears, turning away sharply. He slams his fist against the wall and lets it rest there, breathing heavily.

Apollo can only imagine what he’s thinking. Midnighter doesn’t like to talk about what happened to him while he was with Bendix, only that he was young, it was more painful than anyone could ever comprehend and that it wiped him of everything he once was.

But Apollo does know what that feels like. The aliens had wanted him to be their weapon, their version of ‘Superman’. They hadn’t cared about who he was or how young he was, all he was to them was an object, a means to an end.

But this…

The child can’t be any older than he was when he was taken.

And this is what they plan to do to Peter Herring’s niece. He doesn’t need a computer to tell him that.

“We’re hoping that we’ll be able to get through to the assassin, see if there’s any human part of them left, but it’s unlikely that they will have much information about Cerberus either way.” Matron’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a very long tunnel. “Which is why I sent Agent 1 on a separate mission to capture their handler.” Matron smiles sharply, “Him we can interrogate.”

Midnighter’s answering smile is equally as jagged.

Then his eyes flick towards the monitor. “The kid’ll need some medical attention. There’s not much you can do for the broken rib but some of the bullets clipped them.”

Matron reaches for her comm. “I’ll send someone from medical –”

“I can do that.” Apollo interrupts her.

“Very well.” Matron agrees, “Agent 1.”

Agent 1 nods at the silent command and gestures for Apollo to follow him.

***

The assassin’s eyes snap open as Apollo and Agent 1 enter the room. Agent 1 stops just inside the doorway, leaving Apollo to approach the kid alone. They zero in on him as he draws closer, glancing at the medical kit he holds before immediately returning their attention to his face.

“Hello,” he says as gently as he can, “My name is Apollo. Can you tell me what your name is?”

They simply look up at him hollowly.

“Alright, that’s okay.” He lowers himself to the floor, mirroring their cross-legged position. And, _god_ , all he can think about is how small they felt in his arms. “You’re safe here. I just wanted you to know that. No-one’s going to hurt you.”

He smiles at them and they tilt their head slightly. Only a few millimeters but it’s a reaction, it’s _something_. It means that they can hear him and, hopefully, understand what he is saying.

“The people who you were with, Cerberus, they are bad people. But now you’re with us, me and Midnighter and Spyral. We’re the good guys. We stop organisations like Cerberus from hurting people.”

Apollo picks up the medical kit and shows it to them. “Midnighter – he’s the one you fought earlier, dressed in all black – do you remember him? Well, he said that you were hurt. Do you mind if I come in there and patch you up?”

There’s no reaction. He doesn’t know if they understand his words but hopefully the medical kit makes his intentions clear enough.

Agent 1 walks over to the control panel by the side of the cell. His hand hovers over a button before pausing. The moment draws out. He lifts an eyebrow. “I suggest you stand in front of the door so that you can enter before they attempt to run.”

“Right.” Apollo stands, feeling foolish, “Of course. I don’t think they’re going to run though.” He adds lamely.

The continued raise of Agent 1’s eyebrow tells him all he needs to know of his opinion on that.

The kid’s on their feet the moment the door opens.

Apollo advances into the cell quickly, Agent 1 sliding the door shut after him.

When he takes another step forward, the kid backs away, keeping the distance between them.

“Okay.” Apollo raises his hands, making sure to telegraph his movements, “It’s alright.” He sits down slowly. The kid blinks. “I’m going to open the kit now. I’m just taking out some gauze and antiseptic. Hopefully we won’t need to do any stitches.” He continues to softly narrate his actions, eyes firmly on what he’s doing but ears keenly trained on the child.

They hesitantly edge towards him.

Apollo lets them come at their own pace, keeping his movements measured and his voice low and calm.

It’s only when they sit across from him that he acknowledges their existence.

He lifts his head, making eye contact. The kid tenses but doesn’t move away. “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?” He asks, holding up the gauze.

They don’t respond instantly. Apollo gets the feeling they’re considering him, even if there’s no physical reaction. Then, gradually, they offer him their left arm. Apollo can see a reddened tear in the fabric halfway down.

“Right, okay. Can I –” Apollo picks up the scissors. The kid tenses further and Apollo immediately freezes. “I just need to cut the fabric away so I can get to the wound. I’m not going to hurt you. I promised that no-one is going to hurt you, you can trust me on that.” He inches closer and while the kid’s eyes remain on the scissors, they don’t pull away.

He cuts as gently but as quickly as he can, discarding the scissors the moment he is done.

He makes a noise of sympathy as the wound is revealed. It’s not too deep, the bullet would have grazed them as it flew past, but it’s nasty looking and probably quite painful.

“Well, good news is that it doesn’t look like you’re going to need any stitches.” He tells them. He readies the antiseptic pad. “This is going to sting.” He warns them.

He needn’t have bothered.

They don’t make a sound of pain, or even flinch away from it.

Apollo hasn’t needed antiseptic since he was a child, but he remembers how it had stung, even against skinned knees. How can this child not even react to it on an open wound?

Anger surges up within him. Either the kid is so used to pain this doesn’t even phase them or whatever Cerberus had done to them had made them unable to feel pain. Neither option is one that he wants to consider for any amount of time.

He wraps the gauze around their arm, tying it off in place. “All over.” He smiles at them, “Anywhere else hurt?”

They shake their head, a small movement.

“Good, that’s good.” Apollo begins to pack away the kit. “Do you want anything to eat? You need to drink, at least.” He prompts when they don’t answer.

With a sigh, he stands and walks back over to the door. Agent 1 opens it for him, eyes on the kid in case they make a run for it. They don’t.

“Any word from Midnighter and Matron?” Apollo asks him, lowly.

“No.” Agent 1 says, “I will have food and water sent down for the child.”

Apollo nods, feeling drained. He makes his way out of the room, pausing when he realises Agent 1 isn’t with him. “Are you coming?”

“I will stay here for now.” The look on his face is indecipherable. He makes no move to explain himself, so Apollo takes it at face value. He doesn’t think Agent 1 means the kid any harm.

Right now, he needs a moment.

He collapses against the hallway wall, letting his head hang back.

Memories of the aliens burst forth but he battles against them, pushing them as far back into his mind as he can. This isn't the same, but it's similar enough for his hands to shake and his chest to constrict. 

His whole body craves Midnighter. To just have him there, holding him, the two of them against the world. The thought of it is enough to calm him.

And tiredness hits him like a tidal wave. 

The kid hadn’t shown any emotion, not through their eyes or facial features but they had been… timid. They tensed when he got too close and when he had the scissors. They had responded to what he said, let him tend to their wound.

So, some part of them still had to exist in there somewhere.

It _had_  to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a while. I honestly didn't realise it had been so long since I last posted. Anyway I think I'm past the part where I promise to post more regularly cause by now we all know its not going to happen. But! enjoy an extra long chapter (for me at least) as a sorry. 
> 
> Come talk to me and bug me for updates at my [tumblr](https://ace-connorhawke.tumblr.com)

Midnighter can appreciate the irony. Cerberus’ training compound is located on the outskirts of the Greek city Archangelos, a name which derives from the Archangel Michael. The angel who led God’s armies against Satan. In a sick, twisted way that’s probably what Cerberus thinks they are doing, training these kids to be warriors to fight against Cerberus’ enemies. The thought sits leaden in his stomach.

From the outside it doesn’t look like much, just a squat, white, two-storey building barely distinguishable from those around it, but Midnighter knows it’s the right one. He pulled the location himself from the Cerberus agent with his fists, then Matron confirmed it with Hypnos.

He thinks of the kid still sitting in the Spyral cell, then of the bloodied mess he left the Cerberus agent and feels a surge of satisfaction. It’s not enough, it won’t be enough until all the kids are safe and he’s reduced the compound to a pile of rubble, but it’s a start.

He straightens from where he is leaning against the wall as the door slides open, revealing Apollo and Tiger. Andrew makes straight towards him, striding purposefully, completely transfixed on him as if there was no-one else in the world. Midnighter shivers slightly under the intensity in his gaze, feeling as if he were pinned in place.

He shakes off the feeling, stepping forward to meet Apollo halfway.

Andrew catches him in a bone crushing hug, kissing him with desperation. Midnighter cradles the back of his head, running his hand through his hair gently. Pressed against him as he is, he can feel the tremors running through Andrews’s body. He kisses back, slowly but firmly, and eventually the tension in Apollo’s body begins to drain away

“It’s okay.” Midnighter says, breaking the kiss even though he would rather continue.

Andrew shakes his head. “That could have been us.” He says, quiet and vulnerable.

“It’s okay, we’re okay.” Midnighter meets his eyes unwaveringly, “And we’re going to get those kids out of there, we’re going to help them.”

A throat clears behind them. “If you’re done?” Matron says, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Andrew mutters, disentangling himself from Midnighter, blushing faintly. Midnighter just grins at him, feeling no remorse whatsoever, and takes Andrew’s hand in his own.

Tiger looks over from where he has been examining the hologram of the building studiously. Midnighter’s grin widens at his disapproving glare. Right now he couldn’t care less that he was being unprofessional, not that he’s ever cared about that sort of thing in the first place.

“This is a satellite picture of the building that the Cerberus agent specified.” Helena presses a button, changing the hologram from a picture to a series of 3D blueprints. “And this is what our scanners were able to pick up.” She zooms in on the larger of the two. “There’s a large underground compound, likely connecting to several other buildings in the area, but this is the main entrance.” She pulls up the picture of the building again.

“There are supposedly about thirty children and ten adult helots, that’s what they call them, at this site, all kept somewhere underground. There’s also a dozen trainers and a handler for every two helots.”

Apollo leans forward, “What’s here?” He indicates a blank area where the blueprint cuts off, only to continue further on.

“That’s where everything important is.” Tiger crosses his arms, forehead furrowed, “They’ve protected it from scanners. Which means that we’ll be going in blind.”

Midnighter nods. “It also means I know exactly where to door in.” The computer provides him with a picture of him crushing the skulls of surprised Cerberus handlers, sitting where they thought they were safe behind their child soldiers. It’s a pleasant thought.

“No, I want to confront them head on.” He turns to look at Helena in surprise. “They’ll be expecting us.” She elaborates, “And by now they’ll also know about your ‘doors’. Every high ranking member will be long gone so we won’t be getting much useful information. They’ll either abandon those already there or they’ll send in re-enforcements.”

“You want to see how important the helots are to them.” Apollo summarises. Matron nods.

“In Sparta the helots were slaves and easily replaceable. That’s what these children might be to them.” Midnighter clenches his fist but doesn’t interrupt, “But that depends on how easy it is for them to train them to be like that, emotionless, unthinking. And if we can figure out how they do it, then we can figure out how to reverse it.

“I want you three here.” She points to a hill overlooking the building, “I want to pressure them, make them feel cornered and see how they respond.”

***

Andrew sets them down gently, choosing to remain hovering behind Midnighter’s left shoulder.  

“Well if they didn’t know we were coming before, they do now.” He remarks lightly.

The building is silent, no alarms, no shouts, no running to stations to fend off the attack. If Midnighter didn’t know better, he could almost believe that there wasn’t a secret, child abusing, training compound underneath. As it is, he can faintly pick up sounds of movement within, and he knows from the tilt of Andrew’s head that he’s listening in on everything happening inside. And from the tension radiating from him, Midnighter knows it’s not good.

“There.” Tiger points to the glints of metal on the roof and top level of the building.

“I thought they were supposed to be into the whole ancient Greek thing, not many guns back then.” Midnighter jokes. Andrew and Tiger send him matching aggrieved glares, though he can detect a glimmer of fondness underlying Andrew’s. Tiger would probably just kill him if he had the opportunity. Midnighter smirks in reply.

He pulls out the throwing knife he took from the kid. Its sharp and well balanced, made with a good, sturdy metal. Whatever Cerberus thinks of their helots, the certainly don’t hold back on the quality of their weapons. Or that of their training for the matter. The kid was good, very good, and if there are more like them down there, some with even more experience, then he may well need the Spyral backup.

Slipping the knife away, he turns his attention back to the building, letting the computer take over.

_Apollo would fly him over to the rooftop. The closest one would go down first with a blow to the head. The other four would begin to shoot, but he can knock the next closest one out without much trouble. Getting close to the next would be tricky, and at this point they would most likely abandon their gun and go for their knives. With Apollo taking care of the other two, it shouldn’t take too long. Then he’d flip off the roof and through the larger window on the left side of the building, knocking the gun out of the helot’s hand as he enters. He’d knock them out with the back of the gun then shoot the gun out of the other’s hands. He and Apollo would work down to the ground level where they would meet up with Tiger. The three of them would find the entrance to the underground compound and make their way through it._

There the computer begins to speculate. Without sufficient data, it can’t figure out what will happen next, only throw around possible scenarios.

“Here they come.” Andrew says, interrupting his musings.

Two black dots on the horizon draw closer, materialising into jets. “They ours or theirs?”

“Ours.” Tiger says, tapping his comm unit, “Matron, this is Agent 1, jets are visual, standing by for orders.”

Helena’s voice sounds in all their comms. “Wait until the enemy is engaged, then Apollo will fly you all down. Engage with the Helots as little as possible, I want you three underground.”

“Understood. Agent 1 out.”

Midnighter crosses his arms. Something inside him bristles at taking anyone’s orders, even if he agrees with them.

The jets come to a stop above the building, several coils of cable line unfurling down. Spyral agents follow immediately, gunfire meeting their arrival even before they reach the ground. One agent falls from the cable, hand clutching their upper arm but otherwise unharmed. A dozen Helots spill out into the courtyard to meet Spyral head on. Four handlers follow them, shouting orders.

“That looks like our cue.” Apollo offers Midnighter and Tiger each a hand. As they speed towards the fight, the computer whirls in excitement and Midnighter has to stamp down on his more homicidal scenarios. _Children, we’re fighting children_ , he reminds himself.

Apollo drops them as close to the entrance as he can. Midnighter lands heavily on the back of an adult helot, knocking the wind out of him. A quick blow to the head ensures that he won’t be getting up soon.

Then Midnighter ducks in time for a small body to go flying over his shoulder.

The kid twists mid-air, sending a knife flying his way. He catches it. This kid’s uniform is like the one he fought in the apartment, but she’s older, fifteen or sixteen. And just like the last time her face is completely blank. He throws the knife back at her, using the momentary distraction to twist away, putting a pair of grappling fighters between them.

He catches Tiger swatting aside the gun of a Spyral agent who got too caught up in their fight, barking, “No killing.” As he turns away he mutters something about ‘turning into goddamn Grayson’.

Midnighter can empathise. With each young face he sees, his anger flares brighter and his urge to smash something increases. His sight settles on one of the handlers. _Perfect_.

The handler’s nose crunches satisfyingly under his fist. He staggers backwards, aiming his gun at Midnighter but he presses his advantage, catching his wrist and snapping it. The handler curses and calls ‘Σε μένα’. A nearby helot launches themselves at Midnighter but Apollo intercepts, knocking them out as gently as he can.

Midnighter uses the handler’s own gun to shoot him twice in the chest, then once in the head to put him down for good.

Apollo grabs his hand. “We need to get inside.” He says, voice raised to be heard over the din of the battle. Midnighter nods, noticing Tiger waiting for them at the doorway.

Inside isn’t much quieter. Midnighter fends off attacks as Tiger leads them to an off to the side office. A Cerberus agent lays dead in the middle of the stark room. “I got the codes from him.” Agent 1 says, typing into a panel on the wall. Midnighter walks over to the corner where a security camera is set up. He smiles menacingly into it, before smashing the screen. / _Let the fuckers know they are coming. Let them run. He’s going to hunt them all down._

With a hiss, hidden doors slide open, revealing an elevator. The three of them pile inside, silent except for their panting breaths. There are no buttons to press but the lift begins to move down as soon as the doors close even so.

“They use Greek commands to control them.” Midnighter reports, “One of the handlers said ‘ _Σε μένα_ ’. To me.”

Agent 1 nods, “Yes, I noticed. If we can-”

He cuts himself off as the lift stops with a small jolt. The doors open.

Apollo squints, “Well that’s not what I expected.”

The corridor is empty.

The computer whines, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something isn’t right. It’s not an ambush, not one the computer can pick up anyway and he’s inclined to trust it’s judgement. _Completely empty. Everyone has gone,_  it tells him, _nothing here._

Midnighter turns to Tiger, “Could they have left without Spyral noticing?”

“It’s possible.” Tiger taps on his comm, “The signal’s jammed. Stay on guard.” He adds unnecessarily.

They make their way down the corridor, Apollo hovering, Midnighter and Agent 1 moving with a silence only years of training can achieve. But they make it to the end of the hall with no incident. They pause at the corner, Midnighter raising three fingers. On zero he rounds the corner, moving quickly, scanning the hallway.

Once again, they are met with nothing.

Tiger pulls up a small hologram of the blueprints. “Straight ahead, then to the left.”

They follow his instructions through the winding maze of corridors, all indistinguishable from one another except for their number of doors. The first door they had come across, they had entered on high alert, but all they found was some kind of dorm. Three bunk beds lined neatly up against the wall had been the only furniture in the room. When Midnighter had touched the thin mattress it was hard, and the grey sheet scratchy against his hand.

Each room since then had been a variation of either that or completely empty save for chairs or a mat of some sort. Eventually they forego even opening the doors. It’s clear that there is no-one left behind and nothing important in these rooms.

The situation has Midnighter on edge, something doesn’t add up. Why leave behind anyone at all? Cerberus has managed to evacuate everyone else without Spyral’s notice. So why did they leave some helots and handlers behind? Why put up the front of a fight? The only answer the computer can provide is that it’s all some kind of elaborate trap.

“Here.” Tiger puts away the blueprint, “This is where it stops.”

Midnighter grins. The adrenaline that had ebbed away in their uneventful search resurges, excitement flooding his veins. Finally they can get the answers they need. And going in blind is how he likes it.

He takes the lead, letting chance guide him, or the closest thing he has to chance with the computer in his brain. After a few miss starts, they find themselves in a large room lined with desks and computers. On the far wall is a large monitor displaying a stylised design of three interlocking ‘C’s. He and Tiger immediately find themselves a screen and begin to force their way into the server. Numbers fill his vision and he lets the computer take over, calculating then discarding hundreds of possibilities in a second.

And then they’re in.

Tiger doesn’t waste a minute, downloading all of it for Spyral to go through more thoroughly later.

Apollo comes up behind Midnighter’s shoulder as he clicks through the files detailing the hoplites and their training. A certain file catches his eye and he opens it, projecting it onto the large monitor. It’s the hoplite he fought in the apartment. ‘Stellanova’ it reads in bold letters next to a picture of their face. _Their name?_  Sex: Female. Date of Acquisition: 24.07.2006. It goes on listing her physical features and weight but Midnighter’s mind fixates on those numbers. 2006. Assuming that she was ‘acquired’ as a baby that would make her eleven.

A protective rage wells up inside him, for her, for all the children, for what Cerberus had done to them, for what Cerberus had _stolen_  from them. He might not remember it but he _had_  a childhood, these kids never got that chance. Like him all they have ever known is violence.

“What’s that?” Apollo points to a video link.

The video starts with Stellanova, younger than she is now, nine years old possibly, surrounded by five older hoplites. “ξεκινάω.” An offscreen voice commands. _Begin_. Stellanova springs into action, dodging the fists and kicks thrown her way. She slips through the smallest of openings, hitting her opponents when she can, and twisting away when they retaliate. But she can only hold out for so long. The numbers and greater experience of the others overpower her. She goes down under a flurry of blows, curling up on the floor to protect her head. It is only after a long moment that the trainer speaks again, ‘σταματώ’. Immediately the other hoplites move away, faces completely expressionless. The video cuts off with Stellanova struggling to her feet.

Andrew swears, pushing away from the dents he made in the metal desk, and storming to the other side of the room. Tiger, who had looked up at the sound of the video, face tightens and he mutters something in Pashto. Midnighter’s hands tremble with suppressed anger as he closes the video. Although there are several others he makes no attempts to play them.

“I have finished copying the files.” Agent 1 says, voice carefully controlled, “There is no reason to stay here any longer.”

Midnighter agrees. “Once we’re out of here, I’m burning this whole place to the ground.”

But as they turn to leave, Apollo freezes in place, head tilted to the side. Midnighter pauses just behind him, “Apollo?” he asks, reaching out to him. Apollo just shakes his head, brow furrowed in concentration. Without warning, he takes off out of the room and down the hall, flying at a speed neither Midnighter nor Tiger can match.

They take after him even so, Midnighter relying on his hearing to lead him in the right direction. They pass through a large gymnasium that Midnighter dimly registers as the room from the video. He slows as he approaches an open door, from which Apollo’s voice is softly emanating. “It’s okay,” he’s saying, “My name’s Apollo. I’m here to help.”

He stops completely at the sight that greets him. The room is similar to the other dormitories that they passed earlier except that the beds are singles rather than bunks and there are two cots. Three pairs of eyes turn to meet his, the oldest of which could only be five. Apollo is kneeling in front of the children, hand halfway outstretched as if he wants to touch them but knows that it won’t be welcomed.

Midnighter kneels himself, pushing the cowl back from his face. He studies the faces and body language of the kids, inwardly sighing in relief. They all show signs of fear and mistrust, the youngest even looks as if they have been crying, _emotions_. Whatever Cerberus does to the hoplites it hasn’t had time to take root in these children yet.

A wail brings his attention to the cot in the corner.

As he approaches it, an answering shriek emits from the other cot. Two babies, one approximately six months, the other a year old. _The younger must be Herring’s niece,_  the computer supplies. He reaches down, picking up Herring’s niece as gently as he can, rocking her slightly to try to quiet her cries. In his peripheral vision he can see Agent 1 doing the same with the other baby.

After a minute or two, she finally settles down, hiccupping against his coat, eyes wide and curious as they stare up at him.

He smiles at her as softly as he can, the action at odds with the anger coursing through his body. He turns to see that Apollo has successfully coaxed the younger of the other three children into his arms, a second holding his hand. The eldest stands slightly apart, still clearly wary of the newcomers.

Andrew meets his eye and he can see the mix of emotions he feels reflected in them. “ _Now_ we leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to clarify that Helena and Tiger being grumpy at Midnighter and Apollo being affectionate isn't them being homophobic but being annoyed that they're not being 'professional'. I want to state for the record that I know no Greek so everything is coming from google translate, if anyone wants to correct me then they're welcome to do so. 
> 
> Can I also take one second to apologise to all the hoplites for putting them through all this, they may be fictional but they don't deserve this.


	8. Chapter 8

_There’s something restraining his wrists. Metal bands with no give, no matter how hard Andrew struggles. Something bright is shining above him. He closes his eyes against the glare. Voices speak all around him, but he can’t make out the language. Something blocks out the light, a silhouette of something distinctly non-human._

_He’s back in his cell, too tired, too hurt to move. He’s small, arms scrawny, thirteen again. Figures appear at the door of the cell. He tries to scramble back but hands latch onto him, too strong to resist._

_There’s a needle. It burns, sparks that race up his veins as the liquid enters his arm. His throat hurts. There are voices around him, with clipboards, taking notes. One picks up a scalpel, takes it to his leg. Andrew screams._

_His skin is on fire. No, it’s_ glowing _. He’s strapped down to a chair. There’s a large window facing the sun, he can feel its heat from here. It’s closer than he ever thought it would be, bright against the dark expanse of space. Andrew wishes that it would swallow him whole. A bald man walks into view. He says something, but Andrew can’t hear. He looks smug._

_He’s back on the table. He’s older now, muscles more defined. A figure reaches down with a needle. Another readies a new syringe. He pulls on his restraints, strains, snaps free. The aliens lurch backwards, shouting fearfully in their strange language. Their outlines blur, re-focus. Turning into humans. He runs._

_Down the corridor, past closed door after closed door. It stretches ahead of him, seemingly forever. He’s running out of steam, the initial adrenaline that started him wearing off. He tries to call on his reserves, skin glowing. But it’s been too long since he’s seen the sun, he has nothing left. He crashes to his knees, head bowed as he catches his breath. Footsteps. Boots come into view, accompanied by a condescending voice. Andrew looks up. It’s the bald man again, with the same smug expression. Hands grab him, clutching onto his shoulders. He fights back, striking out, grabbing one and choking them. They call him by name, “Andrew, Andrew!”_

_He recognises that voice, “Apollo-”_

He throws himself to the other side of the bed, staring down at his hands. Hands that had been wrapped around Midnighter’s throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Midnighter, sorry.” A torrent of apologies spill from his lips.

Midnighter moves towards him, cautiously, as one does a spooked animal. “It’s alright, I’m okay. It’s okay, it was just a nightmare.”

Andrew shakes his head. “It wasn’t.” His hands are shaking. God, why can’t he stop the shaking. “It was a memory but… not. It was different to how I remember it.”

Midnighter shifts closer. Takes Andrew’s trembling hands in his own. He presses a kiss to the back, eyes encouraging Andrew to continue.

“I was on the ship. The alien ship. But hey were human. I – I don’t know why. But it felt so real. And – and there was a man. I don’t know who he is, I don’t remember him from when I was _there_  but I… he must have been.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I guess the case got to me more than I thought.”

What Cerberus had done to those children was sick. Even weeks later he still can’t get their lifeless eyes out of his mind. Cold, like the space he had been trapped in.

“I’m going to make us coffee.” He hears Midnighter say. Feels his hands in his until the last possible second, before they slip free. He feels empty at the loss.

It couldn’t be possible that he had been mis-remembering it all this time, that it had been humans who had taken him, experimented on him, not aliens. He knows that children’s minds twist traumatic memories, hell adult’s do too, as well as repressing them. It’s the mind’s way to cope with what had happened to them. Could it be possible that that dream was what had _really_  happened?

But he had been in space. He grasps that one piece of certainty, allows it to pull him back to sanity.

He lets out a long breath, slumping in head into his hands. Warmth spreads across his legs as the clouds covering the sun move on. The light filters lazily into the room, rejuvenating his stores and sweeping away the last of the fog surrounding his brain. He stands, pushing the blinds to the side so that the light of the sun hits him fully. The edges of the sky are still dark, as the rising sun chases away the night. Below him, the city is beginning to wake up, a few early risers already on the street or in cars.

An arm wraps around his chest as Midnighter leans into his back. He takes the offered mug gratefully, smiling when he notices that its his favourite. They’d been a gag gift, Superman for him and Batman for Midnighter. The more famous superheroes that they were a caricature of. At least his costume was different enough from Superman’s that people were able to tell them apart, Midnighter wasn’t so lucky.

Midnighter kisses the side of his neck. “You okay?” He asks, voice huskier than it normally is, even if it was rough from sleep.

“Yeah.” It clicks and Andrew spins around, eyes easily finding the bruises blooming across Midnighter’s throat. “But you’re not. I hurt you. I’m so sorry Midnighter, I should’ve realised-”

“I’m fine.” Midnighter cuts him off, “They’ll disappear in a few minutes. The wonders of accelerated healing.”

Andrew shakes his head, guilt not appeased. “Just because it’ll heal doesn’t mean that I didn’t do it.”

Midnighter steps forward, placing his coffee on the dresser so that he can cup Andrew’s face in his hand. “You were having a nightmare, it happens. It’s not like I haven’t done the same in the past.”

It’s true enough, Andrew concedes. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to Midnighter’s lips. “What do you want to do today?”

***

They end up spending the morning on the couch. It isn’t often that they get to spend time off as there’s always a chance that someone will attack or that they’ll be called in to handle one emergency or another, so they take every moment of peace they can get.

Andrew cards his fingers through Midnighter’s hair, the latter’s head resting in his lap. Some cooking competition show is playing in the background, but Andrew isn’t paying much attention. Instead he focuses his hearing in on Midnighter’s heartbeat. It’s slightly quicker than the average human’s, needing the movement of blood to be just that much faster to power his computer and allow him to move at superhuman speeds.  Andrew knows that if he had too, he could pick up Midnighter’s heartbeat from the middle of a crowd, from the other side of the world, a staccato beat calling him home.

“You’re a better cook than him.” Midnighter says, motioning at the screen which is zoomed in on one of the contestants as he struggles to decide on the right mix of spices.

“Really?” Andrew quirks an eyebrow.

“Mhm,” The shot widens to show all the contestants, “And him, and him, and her. Maybe not her though.”

Andrew laughs, “Maybe I should audition for the next season.”

Midnighter turns his head, tilting it upright so that he can look at his boyfriend’s face. “I’d vote for you.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of show that the audience gets to vote for.” Andrew leans backwards, a smile playing on his lips, “I appreciate the thought though.”

“Well it is the thought that counts.” He’s silent for a moment, then, “And you’ve been thinking all morning. Want to talk about it?”

Apollo hesitates. He doesn’t want to ruin what has been a nice morning so far, not counting the nightmare. Eventually he speaks. “It’s the kids. They’re not getting better. That’s what Matron said isn’t it. Even going into their minds with Hypnos technology, they’re not making any progress.”

Midnighter sits up, the easy smile sliding from his face to match the direction the conversation has taken. “It’s only been a few weeks. Cerberus had years to twists those kids, it’ll take the same if not longer to bring them back.”

Andrew sighs. “No, I know. I just can’t help but see myself in their place. And I hate that there’s nothing that I can do to help. Cerberus is still out there, they still have other training facilities and headquarters, they could be abducting more children right now.”

“Then let’s go.” Midnighter breaks through his rambling, “We can check up on the kids, and see if Spyral has any leads on Cerberus.”

“What right now, without letting them know in advance?”

Midnighter shrugs, “Eh, it’ll keep them on their toes. ‘Sides this way they don’t have time to hide all their shady shit.”

“You think they’re up to something.” Andrew deadpans, feeling his chest lighten slightly in spite himself.

“They’re spies, they’re always up to something.” Midnighter waves his hand, summoning a door, “Well?”

Andrew shakes his head fondly, pulling Midnighter to his feet and through the door. They exit directly into Matron’s office where he’s met with a crossbow pointed directly at his heart. He’s always found the office on the creepy side, with it’s red and black zig-zagged walls, and the wall of screens that display a red and black spiral. Whoever designed the room obviously had no sense of taste, it’s a wonder that Matron hasn’t changed it yet. It’s got to be hard to concentrate on anything in there.

“What are you doing here?” Matron demands, crossbow unwavering as she aims it at them. Apollo freezes, he’s seen what she can do and while it’s not going to kill him, it’d still hurt.

Midnighter raises his hands disarmingly. “You can put that down, we both know it’s not going to do much against us. We’re only here to see the kids.”

“ _Porca miseria_.” Matron lowers her crossbow, rubbing at her forehead. “I should just shoot you on principle. Why can’t you use the front door?”

The question seems rhetorical, so Apollo stays quiet. He feels kind of bad for barging in like this, she’s obviously stressed about something. Then again, from what he’s seen of her, she’s constantly stressed about something or another unless she’s out in the field. 

“Fine. But there hasn’t been much change since the last time you were here. Talk to Agent 1 if you want specifics, I’ve put him in charge of them.”

“And Cerberus?” Apollo asks.

“Nothing new. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got a spy agency to run.” She fixes them with a glare. Apollo can still feel the heat of it even after the door closes behind them.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Midnighter says wryly.

Apollo shoves his shoulder in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that they deserved some comfort after everything I've put them through so far. But don't worry, the story's far from over. As always feel free to come visit me on [tumblr](https://ace-connorhawke.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Porca miseria - damn, hell


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fluffy, filler chapter. But it is my longest yet so I guess that is something.

Tiger is waiting for them outside the lift, nodding his head in greeting when he sees them. Then his face shifts into it’s usual unimpressed expression when he takes them in. Midnighter grins at Tiger’s raised eyebrow. While the agent is in his customary spy uniform, he and Apollo are still in their casual clothes. “Thought it might do the kids some good to see me without the mask.” Midnighter says.

“Or you may scar them even further.” Tiger deadpans.

Midnighter scoffs in mock outrage. “Yeah well they have to put with yours, so I think they can handle it.”

The doors to the lift ding open and the three of them trundle in. Spyral has allocated the top floor of their Canterbury hall at their St Hadrian’s headquarters to the helots. Making sure to keep them hidden and separate from the students, the floor is fitted with dormitories, a cafeteria, bathrooms and a small gymnasium. The idea is to fix them from what Cerberus did, then enter them into the school to give them some sort of education, the few adults they rescued as well. As much as Midnighter dislikes it, these kids are never going to be able to have normal lives, a spy school where they learn algebra and how to kill a man (although they know how to do that already) is as good as it will probably get. At least here the staff will know how to handle them.

“How are they?” Apollo asks, “Have you managed to find homes for the youngest ones yet?”

Although Spyral hasn’t made much headway with the rest of the helots, the youngest few that they found in the training compound had only taken a bit of counselling and a few Hypnos sessions to rid them of the first of Cerberus’ conditioning. It gave him hope that they could do the same for the others, but the cynical part of him says that they’re too old for what Cerberus’ conditioning to be reversed.

“We’ve managed to locate people who are equipped for their special requirements, and able to protect them if Cerberus attempts to reclaim them.” Tiger says. He leads them out of the lift and towards the gymnasium. “There’s something else I must discuss with you.”

They pause outside the door to the gymnasium. At this time most of the helots are usually inside training. All they seem to do is train, despite the fact that Spyral has given them several other recreational activities, they don’t seem to know what to do with them.

"It’s about the girl, Stellanova." Tiger says. "She's not like the others."

This much they already knew. Unlike the rest of the helots, she'd shown signs of recognition and cognizance. The others just react, do what they are told, and if told nothing then they either sit around mindlessly or adhere to some kind of schedule. But Stellanova responds when talked to, not in words of course, they still aren't sure if the helots _can_  speak. Physically, Spyral hasn't found anything that would stop them but as of yet, none of them has uttered a single word. 

"I found something in her mind, in our latest hypnos session. Something alive. It's small and tucked away at the edges of her consciousness, but I think that somehow, she has managed to save a piece of herself despite the conditioning Cerberus put her though. It's possible that she has some strand of psychic metagene."

"And you think that you can use that to get her to come back out?" Apollo asks. 

Tiger nods. "Yes. However, I am not sure what this means for the other helots. Cerberus may have wiped them completely. The only reason that I've been able to get through to her is that she's saved a piece of herself first." 

"And you want us to help." Midnighter states. 

Tiger levels him with an appraising look. "Yes. I think it will do her good to be able to leave the grounds. To experience the world, it may help to coax what's left of her into wanting to come out. It is not safe for her to go alone and I would take her myself, but I am busy with my duties here."

"So, you want us to take her." Midnighter summarises. "Sounds like fun."

Apollo grins his agreement. 

It's been a while since Midnighter has been around kids for anything other than rescuing them from bad people, and more recently fighting them. No-one in their right mind would leave Midnighter with their children. It doesn't mean he doesn't like them though, they're good enough company. On a bad day, their naivety can get on his nerves, other times it soothes him with the knowledge that their futures are still bright. Stellanova is a different story though. A child that is already so damaged there's not much more he can do to screw her up. 

With that figured out, Tiger opens the doors to the gymnasium. The helots are spread out across the hall, some sparing in partners or groups, other working by themselves. The all pause as the door opens, shifting into parade rest as he, Apollo and Tiger enter the room. Tiger waves his hand in dismissal and they all go back to what they were doing. "Wait here." Tiger tells him and Apollo, then picks his way across the room to where Stellanova is doing a set of push ups. He speaks to her in a low voice, and the two of them look over to where he and Apollo are standing. Stellanova considers them for a second then nods slightly, her expression, as usual, unchanging.

Stellanova takes Tiger’s offered hand and allows herself to be led over to them. Apollo kneels down. Like this he’s a little below her eye level. “Hello Stellanova, how have you been?”

Stellanova tilts her head to the side, as if she doesn’t understand the question. She glances up at Tiger for assurance. ‘ _Or for permission’_ the computer chimes in. Midnighter pushes it away. She nods again, the movement a quick jerk, but her eyes seem… light. Even though her body language is as neutral as before, Midnighter can now see something alive in her eyes.

"You're going to be hanging out with us for today." Apollo enthuses. "I'm thinking a park somewhere sort of secluded for a picnic lunch. How does that sound?" The last part is directed at both Stellanova and Midnighter. Stellanova gives him another small nod, but Midnighter can't tell how much of that sentence she actually understands. 

"Yeah, then maybe we should head over to Tony's bar after." Midnighter adds. Tiger glares at him disapprovingly. 

"Midnighter, she's a child." Apollo says in a pained voice. 

"I know, I know but it's a safe enclosed environment and we can introduce her to other fun activities that require her skills but to not actually kill people like pool and darts. No alcohol necessary." 

Tiger's glare softens to its usual aloof disdain. "Very well, but have her back by nine pm, that is when the helots customarily go to sleep and I don't want to disrupt her routine too much."

"Yes, mother hen, I'll get her back for the curfew." Midnighter says, earning him the return of the full-blown glare. 

Apollo offers Stellanova his hand. After a long enough pause that Midnighter can see Apollo is about to retract it, Stellanova reaches out and takes his hand. Midnighter opens a door, standing to the side and gesturing it with a flourishing wave, "After you."

Apollo laughs. "Such a gentleman." He and Stellanova disappear through. With one last salute to Tiger, who nods in return, Midnighter follows them through. 

They exit blinking into the sunlight, next to an oak. Stellanova doesn't seem to be perturbed by the jump, which is fair enough considering she doesn't really emote much, and that this is the second time she's been through a door. Luckily, it's not raining, with a mild breeze to combat the heat of the sun. Stellanova stands stock still but Midnighter tracks the movement of her eyes as she scans the area, cataloguing possible threats. Andrew grins as he recognises the small park. This was the place they came across on their third date, on a stroll after having lunch in a nearby cafe, where they officially acknowledged that they had reached the stage in their relationship in which they could call the other their boyfriend. 

Across the road from them is a store with a sign reading 'Pret A Manger'. Through mutual agreement, they make their way over there to buy lunch. Once inside Midnighter's senses are bombarded with bright, clean, healthy food and he instantly realises he may have made a mistake. There is something about the store that makes him feel as if he has been transported to a different universe, but Andrew seems to be happy enough, so he lets it be. Andrew leads Stellanova over to a wall of sandwiches, amongst other healthy choices. "Which do you want?" he asks, but Stellanova just stares at the row of sandwiches uncomprehendingly.  

Midnighter feels a rush of empathy and grabs one off the shelf for her, _chicken and bacon_  the computer notes. "Too many choices, too soon." He says in an undertone to Andrew as Stellanova examines the sandwich. He picks up another one of the same sandwiches and gives it to Andrew. "If you pay, then I'll call Tony and arrange for us to come over."

Andrew hums, turning back to the startlingly large display of sandwiches. As he leaves, Midnighter spots something that looks almost like a brownie. A shiver runs down his spine. It almost comes as a surprise that he doesn't exit into another country, not even to a different street, though he can't quite rule out a parallel universe. Nevertheless, he pulls out his phone. 

"Hey Tony, Apollo and I are babysitting today, and I was thinking of bringing her over to yours later."

A laugh echoes down the line. Midnighter waits him out. "Wait, you're serious?" Tony says, shocked. "Who in their right mind is letting you take care of their child? And why would you think taking them to a bar is a good child activity. This is why you shouldn't be around kids, you don't know how us feeble humans work."

"I'm not an idiot, I know kids and bars don't mix but if you could clear out the bar for this evening, it'd be good to have a enclosed space so she doesn't get overwhelmed or something." 

"I mean, yeah I guess so."

"Great. I'm going to invite Marina as well, probably good for her to have a positive female influence."

"Just who is this kid you're bringing into my place? I swear to go they better not be some kind of freaky alien or something equally likely to destroy the place."

Midnighter sighs, "She's not going to destroy the place, but she's not exactly a normal child. We rescued her from an evil secret organisation that raised children as mindless soldiers."

"Wow, um. If I wasn't your friend, I genuinely wouldn't know how to respond to that." Tony laughs again, this time an awkward, uncomfortable kind of laugh, "Well I guess I'll meet this mini you later."

"Yeah, thanks." Midnighter hangs up the phone to a muttered 'no problem, I guess this is my life now' from Tony. Sending a quick text to Marina, he looks up just in time to catch Andrew and Stellanova exiting the store. Along with her sandwich, Stellanova is carrying a _pain au chocolat_. Andrew shrugs, unrepentant. 

They settle down underneath the same oak tree they arrived under, the leaves shading them from the midday heat. Midnighter leans back against the trunk, shifting as a knot digs into his shoulder. The flavour of the sandwich surprisingly isn't as odd as he thought it would be, so he decides to eat it slower than he would usually. He doesn't need to eat that often, neither he or Andrew do due to the changes in their physiology, but he does enjoy doing so just for the taste now and again. Not that he'd go back to the Pret A Manger, the food isn't quite good enough to make up for the weird multi-dimensional thing he is sure is going on there. 

His mind replays Tony's words 'mini you'. Sure, this isn't the first time that he has considered the similarity of their situations, but to have it stated so plainly, he isn't sure. If there is one thing Midnighter has always had control over it is the choices he makes, and the use of his skills. Bendix and the Gardner may have manipulated him in the past, violated his body and mind, removed his memories of who he had been, but they could never make him do anything he did not agree to do. His will has always been and will always be his own. The image of the stapler jutting from Bendix's throat satisfies the computers urging in a way that not even battling the duplexes does. And yet, looking at this child brings all of that blood lust rushing back. 

"Hey." Andrew bumps his shoulder against his, drawing him from his thoughts. 

Midnighter smirks. "Hey." He parrots. 

"See that blue?" Andrew points to a section of the sky just on the edge of the horizon, "That's the same colour of the sky as the first time we met."  

Midnighter follows the line of his finger to the vibrant patch of blue. "Hmm, no it was a couple shades darker."

Andrew shoves his shoulder again, harder this time. "Oh, and you'd know that Mr-super-computer brain."

"Damn right I do."

"Hey! Language in front of the kid." Andrew says in an offended tone, the twitching at the edges of his mouth undermining his aghast expression. 

"I'm sure she's heard worse, right Stellanova?" He looks over at the kid for the last part. She blinks at him. "See."

Andrew sighs, "She didn't say anything."

"Yeah but I can tell. We've got a connection." That and he's got a computer analysing every micro-expression she makes, no matter how blank she appears to the normal person. 

Stellanova's eyes widen in the faintest hint of alarm, or possibly excitement. Though the computer doesn't pick up on any danger, Midnighter subtly takes a look behind him. He relaxes when he sees the small, fluffy, white shape hurtling towards them, a woman chasing meters behind it. Within seconds the puppy is upon them, tail wagging as he explores. Stellanova stares at it unblinkingly. "It's a dog. Have you ever seen one before?" he asks, despite already knowing the answer. Sure enough, Stellanova shakes her head. 

"Do you want to pet him?" Andrew suggests. She hesitates, thrown, but whether because of an unfamiliar word or because of being given a choice, Midnighter can't tell. Probably both. Andrew runs his hand over its back in demonstration. The puppy nearly bowls itself over in its excitement, ending up right next to Stellanova. Cautiously, she reaches out, hand stopping just shy of its head. The puppy surges forward licking at her fingers, and she runs her other hand through its soft fur wondrously. It clambers into her lap to get closer and Midnighter does a double take. For a moment he thinks the computer is playing tricks on him, but no, there it is as plain as day. The corners of Stellanova's lips are curling upwards into the beginnings of a smile. 

The first facial expression she has made since he met her, and probably since she was a young child, and of course it's because of a puppy.

" _J_ _e suis tellement désolée. Milou, mauvais chien!_ " The woman says as she reaches them, voice breathless. 

Midnighter fixes her with his most charming smile. " _C'est d'accord. Stella aime les chiens._ " The woman looks over at where Stellanova is bowed over the dog who is practically vibrating in her lap. She calls to the dog, who snaps to attention, then runs towards her, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. " _Désolée_ " The lady says again, " _Bonne journée._ " 

Stellanova follows the movement of the puppy until both he and the woman are out of sight. 

"We should get her a dog." Midnighter suggests. 

"I don't think Spyral allows animals on their grounds." Andrew replies. Even so he seems to be considering it. 

***

They crowd around the pool table, Andrew settling the balls into position as Marina fetches them all cues. Tony has left out a smaller sized one specially for Stellanova. It had been dark by the time they arrived at Al's Masse. As promised the door had hosted a 'closed' sign, though light was streaming out of the window. Tony and Marina greeted him and Andrew before focusing in on Stellanova, who was quickly overwhelmed by the attention. She retreated to the var where she became fascinated by the fairy lights wrapped around the counter, reaching out to touch one. When nothing had happened, she cradled it in the palm of her hand, the green light splayed across her skin. 

"The rules are simple. You hit the white ball into other balls by using the fuzzy end of the stick, to force them into one of the six holes. The first team to sink all their balls, then the black eight wins. If you sink the black eight ball before all of your other balls, the other team wins." Midnighter explains. "Got it?" Stellanova nods, eyes racing across the table as she takes it all in, cataloguing the rules. "You use the cue like so." Midnighter demonstrates, cue resting on his left hand as he uses his right arm to move the stick. "Give it a go." He gestures to the white ball that Tony places across the table from the triangle of balls. 

Stellanova imitates his posture perfectly, lining the end of her cue up with the white ball. Her face goes blank with concentration as she thrusts the cue forwards. The ball goes wide, hitting the side of the triangle with barely enough force to knock the other balls out of position. "Don't worry about it kiddo, no-one's good on their first try of pool." Tony says as Stellanova regards her failure. 

Midnighter claps his hands. "Teams." 

"No way you're playing with your computer brain. 'Sides there's an odd number." Marina says. "I'll go with the kid." She beckons Stellanova over. "I like your shirt." Marina says. Stellanova looks down at herself. The shirt in question is pink with a sparkly silver hibiscus flower in the centre. She nods. 

"Guess that means I'm stuck with you." Andrew says to Tony. 

"Looks like it." 

As the game progresses, Stellanova steadily improves. Midnighter notes the way her posture softens slightly as she faintly smiles along to the banter between the four adults, the way her eyes light up when she's praised for a good shot. Eventually the game ends with Marina sinking the eight ball. She raises her hand to Stellanova for a high five in celebration. She stares at the offered hand for a moment before turning to Andrew for clarification. Midnighter and Tony watch from the bar halfway across the room as Andrew and Marina teach Stellanova the art of high-fiving. 

"She's getting along well with Marina." Tony comments. 

Midnighter takes a swig of beer. "She's like a duckling. Just kinda imprints on the closest person to her. 

"So, what's her deal anyway?" Tony asks, "And how did you end up babysitting?"

"She was brainwashed by an evil organisation to not have emotions. Andrew and I have been tasked with trying to bring them back."

Tony leans against the counter. "Huh. Well it looks like you're doing a good job of it, besides from how she looks like one of those creepy kids in horror movies."

Andrew moves on to showing Stellanova darts, as Marina joins them by the bar top. This one is easy for her, child's play compared to her throwing knives. She effortlessly beats Andrew in two games, as the three of them call over teasing remarks. Andrew huffs in mock anger as Stellanova looks proudly up at him. "I'd like to see you guys to better. The kid's good." 

"I'll take that challenge." Midnighter replies, crossing the room to them. "You up for a re-match?" He asks Stellanova. She nods, determination filling her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of Stellanova in this chapter but like,,, I love kidfics and I'm increasingly wanting to just wrap her up in a blanket. I didn't plan this I swear. 
> 
> I'm in the middle of a side oneshot centering around Tiger, his past and what happened in the two week gap between chapter seven and eight, which will be posted before chapter 10 so keep and eye out for that. Until next time. 
> 
> Je suis tellement désolée. Milou, mauvais chien! - I'm so sorry. Milou, bad dog!  
> C'est d'accord. Stella aime les chiens - It's okay. Stella likes dogs  
> Désolée - sorry  
> Bonne journée - have a nice day  
> (this was done with google translate so if anyone wants to correct me feel free)
> 
> Update: Escape Velocity has now been published


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this is un-beta'd and I haven't really been bothered to edit that much so if you see mistakes feel free to point them out.

The squawk of seagulls rises over the backdrop of excited chatter. Andrew breathes in deeply, the salty smell of the harbour mingling with the sweetness of ice-cream and fairy floss. The sky is a vibrant blue, the sun beating down on him, soothing away minor aches and pains. He can practically feel his stores replenishing, drained as they were from their fight against a weird slime monster the night before. He's always liked Australia for that reason, the near constant sun that somehow feels stronger than in other places. He'd read somewhere that is was due to high levels of solar radiance, meaning that the UV levels there are some of the strongest on earth. 

Nevertheless, it's a good place to get charged quick. 

"Now that's just creepy." Midnighter says from beside him as they approach an entrance shaped like a massive open mouth. 

They've decided to take Stellanova to Lunar Park, Sydney's main theme park, to show her more of the world and to let her just run around and enjoy herself like a kid. Now he's just hoping that they haven't horribly scarred her. 

"It is, a bit." Andrew looks down at Stellanova, but she doesn't seem all to bothered by it. Instead she looks around them with wide eyes as she takes in all the attractions and the screams emanating from them. Hopefully she can tell that they are exclamation of joy rather than fear or pain, though they probably are a little from fear. 

Luckily, they pass under the massive teeth without them slamming shut and eating them. 

It's the middle of the week, so the ticket line isn't too long, and mainly filled by tourists like them. Still, Midnighter beings to fidget a couple of minutes in. "How is it that you can lie in ambush stock still for hours if you need to but a few minutes of waiting in line and you're more restless than the actual child?" Andrew scolds him jokingly. 

Midnighter pouts at him. "Because this is boring, and the computer is being annoying." He adds a whine to his voice that has Andrew debating laughing or hitting him in exasperation. He doesn't truly know how big an influence the computer has on Midnighter's life. He's told him how it is a constant presence in his mind, insistently telling him all the different ways that he could kill everyone there, but Andrew can only ever image how horrible that would be. And it's easy enough to forget about it, as it's not something that he can physically see. 

Midnighter brightens. "Look over there." He points to where two brightly dressed people are walking around on stilts, greeting the other patrons and posing for photographs. "Do you want to go over and say hi?" He asks Stellanova. 

She presses herself against Andrew's leg, regarding them with a look that can only be described as horror. "I guess that's a no, then." 

Once purchased, they secure the yellow bands around their wrists, Andrew helping Stellanova to stick hers into place. 

"Roller coaster time." Midnighter cheers, leading the way to a rickety looking ride with a sign proclaiming it to the 'Wild Mouse'. Two carts zoom around the winding tracks, the inhabitants cheering as they reach the highest point. 

He pulls up short, squinting at the ride. "Looks like this is a two-person ride."

Andrew internally sighs with relief. "Guess I'll be sitting this one out." It's not that he's afraid of heights, with all the flying he does he'd better not be, or even roller coasters themselves. It's just sometimes hard to convince his body that it shouldn't start flying as the cart starts its descent. 

"What are you afraid of a little roller coaster?" Midnighter teases. 

"Deathly. Now go have fun while I stand here all alone." 

"Aw." Midnighter kisses his cheek. "We'll be back soon." 

Andrew watches them fondly as they join the line, Midnighter explaining what a roller coaster is to Stellanova with wide gestures that brings a smile to her face.  Midnighter slotted back into his life so neatly that it's sometimes hard to believed that they'd been split up for a whole year. Sure, there'd been a lot of serious talking about their relationship and what they needed from each other, but after that. He can't imagine the rest of his life without Midnighter in it. He'd tried dating briefly while they were apart, but nothing serious. None of them had really been able to handle the Apollo part of his life, or, in one particular case, that had been all they were interested in. 

With Midnighter it is different. He understands that Apollo and Andrew are the same person, in the same way that Midnighter is always himself whether he's wearing the cowl or not. 

Midnighter and Stellanova reach the front of the queue, climbing into their cart. 

And now there's Stellanova to consider. He isn't really sure what she is to them. He likes her, sure, but they're not really equipped to be looking after a child, nor do they have the right lifestyle to be looking after one. And then there's Spyral to consider and what they'd have to say on the matter. It's hard for him to get a good read on Agent 1, or Tiger as he'd recently learnt. The man doesn't seem to really like Midnighter, or him by extension but he does care for Stellanova. Maybe he wants to take her in?

It's a moot point, either way. Like he said before, they're not ready for the responsibility of a kid. 

Still, watching Midnighter with her, he can't help but wonder...

After a few more rides that Andrew is able to join them on, the three of them end up at the ice-cream parlour. The glass counter displays the rows of ice-cream they have, Stellanova examining the brightly coloured food intently. The man behind the counter greets them warmly, his name tag reading Noah. 

"I'll have a salted caramel." Midnighter says, pulling out their limited amount of Australian money. 

"Cookies and cream for me." Andrew says. 

"And for the young lady?" Noah smiles, looking down over the counter to Stellanova. She doesn't respond. 

"Vanilla." They need to start her off easy when it came to new things such as food. They'd found that out the hard way. She was so used to eating what was basically nutritious slop that anything too flavourful was overwhelming to her and her stomach. 

Noah bustles around behind the counter. "Ahh, a fan of the classics. Not many that young who are, you have very sophisticated taste." Stellanova finally seems to realise that he's talking to her, blinking up at him. She smiles, sensing that he was being nice, even if she didn't really understand what he is saying. She takes the ice-cream he offers her, watching Andrew intently to see what he does. 

"It's cold." He warns her, licking at his ice-cream. 

Stellanova follows suit, cautiously taking a lick of her own. She blinks in surprise, whether at the flavour or temperature, Andrew isn't sure. Then she smiles.

"Good?" Midnighter asks. Already half of his has been eaten. She nods in response, absorbed in licking at it as it begins to melt onto her fingers. "Here, I'll clean you up afterwards." He holds up a napkin. "Don't worry about it." 

They sit on the steps leading down to a small wharf overlooking the harbour. The sun dances off the water and around them seagulls dive at chips, both supervised and unsupervised. Stellanova doesn't seem to know what to focus on, her ice-cream or the water and Andrew wonders whether she's ever seen the sea before. 

Midnighter tries to steal a bite of his ice-cream and Andrew holds it out of his reach, laughing. "You had your own." He attempts to take a bite of his own but Midnighter swoops in when he lowers it. "No!" Andrew turns his back on Midnighter slightly, but he only reaches around him for it. 

"Just a little bite." Midnighter wheedles. 

"You're such a menace." He gives in anyway. 

Midnighter grins with ice-cream staining his lips. "I know." 

Andrew gives in to the urge to kiss it away, stealing back his ice-cream at the same time. He finishes it off in a few large bites, smiling at Midnighter's offended 'hey!' as he does so. 

Stellanova finishes her ice-cream and Midnighter leans over to wipe her smaller hands clean. Andrew takes her other hand as they stand, leading the others to the game alley they had passed on their way to the roller coaster. Stalls of various games of throwing, fishing and hitting, all with stuffed toy prizes of various sizes line both sides of the footpath

Stellanova's eyes light up and he follows her gaze to a stall titled Buster Balloons, a dart game. "You want to have a go?" He asks her. Stellanova nods rapidly, tugging at his hand slightly. Andrew laughs at her enthusiasm. 

They wait for the couple in front of them to finish their round, failing to pop a balloon on all but one throw. Stellanova takes it all in, head tilting to the side as she considers the game. 

"A round of darts for the kid." He tells the bored looking teenager managing the stall. 

"Hang on a minute, how many games does it take to get one of those." Midnighter points to a moderately sized plush dog amongst the wall of brightly coloured prizes.

"Minimum three." The teen says in a tone that suggests that he doesn't think that it will be that easy. Midnighter hands him the right amount of cash. The teen shrugs as if to say, 'your loss' and gives Stellanova a handful of darts. 

She considers the balloons for a minute, then throws her first dart. A red balloon pops. Second dart and another balloon gone. The teen looks surprised as the third and fourth throw go just as easily. She stumbles on the fifth but makes up for it with two balloons on the seventh. By the time she's done, a whole chunk of the wall has been cleared away and they have amassed a small gathering of people.

"You wanted the, uh, the dog?" The teen says pulling it down from the wall. Stellanova smiles widely as she strokes the short, blue fur. 

She holds it up to Andrew proudly and he nods. "Good job."

Stellanova lights up even further, cradling the dog to her chest. 

Midnighter takes them over to strength game called 'Hi Striker'. Andrew can see how he holds his strength back slightly as he swings the hammer, hitting it against the podium. The marker races up the pole, a ding sounding as it reaches the top, flashing rainbow. He hands the plush love heart he wins to Andrew with a smug smile and he pretends to swoon over Midnighter's muscles. 

No matter how impressive they may be, in a simple test of strength between them Andrew will win every time. 

They decide to try the Ferris wheel next. It starts with a jolt, the carriage swinging back and forth slightly. Andrew sinks back against the hard-plastic seat, shifting so that he can sling an arm over Midnighter's shoulders. Across from them, Stellanova's fingers tangle with the metal bars, curled up on the seat to be closer to the view. 

"Not quite as good as flying." Midnighter says.

"Much less effort though."

Midnighter reaches up, entwining his fingers with the hand Andrew has resting over his shoulder. "Oh, I see, you're just lazy."

"Guilty as charged." 

The Ferris wheel grinds to a halt, their carriage at the highest point. "Hey," Andrew calls to Stellanova, "Come over here." She confidently crosses the gap, gracefully ignoring the swinging of the carriage from her movement. 

"See that bridge over there?" He points to the curved arch of steel triangles, "That's the Sydney Harbour Bridge." Focusing he can see the silhouettes of people walking up the side of the bridge. "Looks like they have bridge walks." he says to Midnighter. 

"We'll have to do that some time."

"Or I could just fly us over there."

Midnighter matches his grin. "Someone's feeling like breaking laws. Who's being a bad influence now."

Andrew turns to Stellanova. "Breaking and entering is bad. Only do it when strictly necessary."

She nods absently, pointing at a building with white sails. She looks at him inquisitively. "That's the Sydney Opera House. They do, uh, operas there I guess."

"Well put."

Andrew shrugs. "I don't know what they do in there. It could be demon summoning rituals for all I know." 

Midnighter laughs. "Probably not, but who knows with these Australians." 

As the carriage begins to move again, Andrew notices a black spot on the horizon. Focusing he can see that it is some kind of aircraft. "Looks like there's going to be some trouble." He says to Midnighter in barely above a whisper knowing that he would be able to hear it fine. 

"Spyral?" Midnighter says at the same volume. 

"I don't think so."

He leaps from the carriage the second the door is open, helping Stellanova out after him. By now the aircraft is close enough for the other park goers to notice it. They stand around, shielding their eyes from the sun as they point at it, confused exclamations filling the air. Midnighter opens a door to their apartment, where he always has a bag with his uniform just in case of situations like these. He disappears behind a stall to change, while Andrew attempts to urge the crowd to move away. They ignore him, and Andrew laments the fact that he isn't wearing his costume. 

He could take to the skies, but he doesn't want to leave Stellanova alone like that. 

His ears pick up on the screeching of tires as two black vans come to a halt just outside the entrance to the theme park. The doors slide open and several Cerberus agents pile out. They're dressed in the usual Grecian style, but Andrew can tell from their movements and facial expressions that they're not helots. That makes this fight a lot easier. 

As they advance, the crowd beings to panic and Andrew picks Stellanova up before she is trampled by a man twice her size. He puts her down behind the counter of a stall. "Stay here. Stay down." He tells her. 

She looks between him and the approaching hoplites, eyes wide. 

"Stay here." He repeats

The aircraft roars to a stop above them, hoplites sliding down the ropes. He flies forwards to intercept them before they reach the crowd, the last one dropping from the rope as they see him hurtling towards them. He disarms the closest one before they can fire, breaking the gun in half and knocking them back into their companions, moving on to the next. 

Right now, his goal is to keep the civilians safe and give them enough time to get away without the hoplites opening fire. He is under no illusion about why Cerberus is here. What he doesn't know is how they found them. 

He looks up as Midnighter joins the fray, fully changed into his costume. "You took your time."

"Sorry. You know how the clasps are."

Andrew grunts as the throws his opponent into a stall. "I always tell you need to change that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Midnighter stumbles for a second, a Cerberus agent getting a hit in while he's distracted. Midnighter knocks him out with a punch to the temple. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"My computer's confused. It can't figure out their next moves." Midnighter takes out another combatant. "Don't worry. I'm still pretty good fighting even with only five senses." 

Andrew pushes away his worry. They can figure out what happened to the computer once the fight is won. He spares a glance to Stellanova and sees that two Cerberus agents have cornered her. She doesn't resist as one roughly grabs her arm, dragging her away from her hiding spot. The other notices the plush dog and rips it away from her grip, throwing it to the side. 

Andrew charges them with a yell, hitting the second agent in the chest with his shoulder and bodily flinging him to the side. He tears the first man's hand off Stellanova's shoulder, not caring that he breaks the man's wrist as he does so and hurling them away. "You can fight back, you don't have to go with them." Andrew tells her, but he knows it's a lost cause. Stellanova looks lost, it's all too much, too fast. She's not completely out of Cerberus' control yet. All he can do at this point is try to keep her away from them. 

Midnighter cries out and Andrew whirls around to see him go down surrounded by Cerberus agents. He tries to go to him but is intercepted by even more opponents. He throws them away as fast as he can but more just keep coming. "Midnighter." He calls desperately but gets no response. 

He pays the bullets no mind as they ping off his chest, bulldozing his way to where he saw Midnighter last. 

Before he's even halfway there, he sees that another agent has seized Stellanova and is dragging her away. He turns to help her, but a scream pierces the air, halting Andrew in his tracks. 

Cerberus has tied a group of civilians to the pole of one of the rides. A bomb is strapped next to them, the counter showing twenty seconds in big, glaring letters. One of the woman is looking to him, begging for help. 

Andrew looks between Midnighter's unconscious body being lugged away by Cerberus agents and the civilians. Stellanova is shoved inside the van and he watches, torn, as a girl even younger than she is cries. Midnighter follows her into the van, hands roughly cuffed together first despite him being out cold. 

"Damn it!" He punches the pole next to him, denting it. 

His heart aches as he flies towards the civilians, eyes fixed on the timer. 

Midnighter can take care of himself. And of Stellanova. He can go back for them later. 

He has to believe it. 

There isn't enough time to disarm the bomb, and even if there was he wouldn't know how to anyway. Instead he rips it away from where it is secured, soaring as high as he can to put as much distance between the bomb and the civilians as possible before it goes off. 

6.

5.

He passes a bird and keeps going.

4.

He makes sure to veer over the harbour so there's no chance of him hitting anyone when he falls.

3.

2.

He's so high now that lunar park is only a speck below him. He hopes that no ferries move into his path. 

1.

The icy water hits him with a shock, jolting him back into awareness. He sinks like a rock, white bubbling around him. The light filters through the water to him and for a moment he ponders the beauty of it. Then his sense come back to him and he remembers. He swims for the surface, meeting the air with a gasp and rocketing up into the sky.

He searches the horizon for a black dot, the nearby roads for any trace of the vans. 

There is none. 

He lands heavily in the centre of Luna Park, water puddling around him into the cracks created by the force of it.

In front of him, the small blue dog lies forgotten in the dust. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think the fluff would last forever did you?
> 
> If you haven't already go check out 'Escape Velocity' a side story about Tiger that ties into this work.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware it's been a terribly long time and I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger.  
> This was probably the hardest chapter to write yet as there was so much information I needed to tell and I've been battling a massive writers block but oh well, here it is.  
> As always, no beta and hardly edited so please excuse any spelling or grammar.

It doesn’t really surprise Apollo that Matron is already waiting for him by the time he touches down outside the Spyral headquarters. Tiger stands slightly behind her and although his face is carefully neutral, he radiates rage. To her credit, Matron doesn’t so much as flinch as he lands directly in front of her with more force than he usually allows himself. 

She tilts her head in the direction of the student’s dormitories, “We should have this conversation away from prying eyes.”

He follows her gaze to a wall lined with windows, each with multiple students pressed against the glass, unashamedly gawking at the stranger who literally just flew into their school. “Fine,” he agrees. 

Matron turns sharply on her heel, leading the way as Apollo and Tiger fall into step behind her. 

He can't get the image of Midnighter's unconscious body being shoved into the back of the black van out of his mind. Logically he knows Midnighter’s been in tighter situations, some of which Apollo had rescued him from (just as he would this time), but it doesn’t ease the crushing grip of guilt. He had made the decision to let them take Midnighter. Yes, it he had done it to save innocent lives, a choice he has made countless times before, the choice he knows that Midnighter would prefer him to make, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

And now Cerberus has his boyfriend and Stellanova, to do god know what with. They’ll undo all the progress they’ve made with her, recondition her to be one of their living weapons. Oh god, _what if they try to do the same to Midnighter?_  They’ve already managed to disable his computer, Midnighter is strong but given enough time...

No. He won’t give them that time. He’s going to find out what Spyral knows and then he’s going to get Midnighter back even if he has to tear every last Cerberus compound to the ground to do it. 

Apollo’s patience lasts just as long as it takes for them to reach an empty hallway. “They knew where we were.” He says picking up his pace so that he walks in step with Matron, “How?”

A crease appears between her eyebrows. “We’ve suspected that Cerberus has a agent inside of Spyral for a while now, but we haven’t been able to determine their identity yet.” 

“I’ve narrowed our list of suspects down to ten people.” Tiger growls, “This... incident should help to weed them out.”

“Yeah, and why’s that?” Apollo snaps

“Because only a select group of agents know that the helots are here, and even less that you have been taking Stellanova out on excursions.”

“Who?” He demands but neither spy answers him until the door to Matron’s office closes behind them. 

Matron pulls up pictures of three familiar faces. "There's the three agents who retrieved Stellanova with you; Eleven, Twenty-three and Twenty-eight. I put them on the mission because I questioned their allegiances." She holds up a hand to stall Apollo's flash of temper, "It was under control, you and Midnighter were there and if one of them had defected on site I had multiple back up plans to deal with it."

"You still could have told us." Apollo grits out, "Withholding information like that could have put the whole mission, and Richards' son at risk."

Matron tilts her head in what could be a nod of quittance but doesn't acknowledge his words any further. Apollo is still fuming as she turns back to the monitor, typing away. That's the second piece of information that Matron has kept from them, from the one mission. _What else is she not telling them? Midnighter seems to trust Spyral to an extent but can they really?_

"Of course, the agents guarding the helots and the Cerberus agent, Agent 1 apprehended have been thoroughly investigated; none of them are our traitor." Matron continues, "But they aren't the only ones who know about the helots in our care. Agents Thirty-two, Thirty-eight and Twenty-six all have come into contact with them at one point or another." Three more pictures appear on the monitor. "And then there's the non-field agent members, one in medical, two in intelligence and one in the R&D division that I have my doubts about." Another four pictures join the others to make ten. 

The weight on Apollo's chest lessens somewhat at the thought of a task he can work towards rather than stand around uselessly. "Alright. Where do we start?"

Tiger steps forward, unfolding his arms to motion at the screen. "With the most likely of the suspects, Agents Eleven, Twenty-three, Twenty-eight and Thirty-two. We must proceed carefully, if any word of our investigation leaks, the traitor may run." He points to Twenty-three and Thirty-two. "While all four know that Stellanova has gone with you on various occasions, these two were both aware of today's excursion."

Apollo takes a minute to mull all the new information over. Spyral definitely knows more than him, and almost as definitely there's more they aren't telling him. He doesn't know any of the suspects, except for the three he briefly worked with, but even thinking back he didn't get any sense of double agency from them at the time. They are spies though, and good ones at that if their numbers are any indication. The crux of the matter seems to be who knows what; that the helots are with Spyral, that he and Midnighter have been looking out for Stellanova, that they were going to... 

An uncomfortable sense of hyper awareness comes over him. There was only one person who knew where they were going today, one person who he thought cared about Stellanova and the rest of the helots as much as he and Midnighter does. But it couldn't make sense, he would never have gotten so far in Spyral if he was a double agent, could he? It did make a certain kind of sense, him as the only one who has spent time alone, unsupervised with the Cerberus agent, who has had access to the helots at any point in time. 

Adrenaline flooding his body at the possible fight to come, Apollo voices his conclusion.

“But the only one we told where we were going today was,” he turns to Tiger, “you.”

Tiger bristles. “If you are insinuating that I had anything to do-”

"Agent 1's loyalty is not under question." Matron's harsh voice cuts him off.

Apollo continues, undeterred. "You knew where we've been taking her, you've been in contact with the Cerberus agent and you've had plenty of opportunity was leader of the investigation to turn the spotlight away from yourself."

Tiger's glare which had begun to soften around Apollo over the time they've spent together is back in full force. "I would never be a part of an organisation that harms children." He takes a threatening step forwards that Apollo matches, leaving them mere centimetres apart. 

"Enough!" Matron interjects, pushing her way in between the two men. "Agent 1 is not working with or for Cerberus."

Matron's unwavering certainty would probably be more reassuring if Apollo trusted her. But it's all he has to go on for now and he needs Spyral's help if he wants to find Midnighter, so he decides to let it go. 

"Okay." He backs down, moving away a few steps. Tiger watches his movements mistrustfully, as if waiting for an attack. Apparently mollified, Matron returns to her desk. 

"The two of you are going to put this aside, get out there and get me a name," she orders. 

Apollo nods stiffly, not happy with being ordered about like one of her agents, but willing to let it pass for the time being. Once this whole thing is over and he has Midnighter back he will be happy to never have to see any of Spyral again. 

***

Midnighter paces the length of his cell for approximately the hundred and twelfth time since he woke up there around about an hour ago. Waking up had been an unpleasant experience, normally he would snap to attention immediately in situations like this, but this time he had to fight for consciousness. Whatever Cerberus drugged him with was not only strong but was obviously made by someone who has experience with Bendix's modifications. There are only three people who do, one of which he killed himself. 

And then there is the problem of his computer. It's gone temporarily silent before, been confused and unable to predict events but all those times he has known the cause, eliminated it and restored the computers functions. This is different. And it unsettles him more than he'd ever admit. He's wished to be free of the computer, of its endless calculation and observations, countless times. And in any other situation he would celebrate the silence in his mind. But now he is in enemy hands, with no idea what happened to Apollo or the kid, and completely off-kilter. He would be able to function better if Cerberus had just cut of his goddamn arm or something. 

That being said, it isn't like he's been standing around twiddling his thumbs. The force field blocking the exit of his cell would be hard enough for him to figure out with his computer, and damn near impossible without. The brute force approach didn't work and he rubs his arm absentmindedly in remembered pain. There is no way for him to access the code pad that no doubt controls the force field, the walls of the cell are completely smooth with nothing to suggest the complex wiring they are hiding. There isn't even so much as a small vent that he could use for parts. Interestingly enough that either means that they intend him to slowly suffocate to death or that the force field lets through oxygen. And seeing as he hasn't experienced any negative effects yet, he's fairly certain it's the latter. 

He's even tried to use of his doors. Opening inside his cell and exiting on the other side of the force field. It wasn't much of a surprise that his doors didn't work either. As thorough as Cerberus has been with severing him from his abilities, they wouldn't overlook the best chance he has of leaving. Not that he'd just walk away. 

All other options extinguished, all he can do at this point is wait for someone to come tell him what the hell happened and what they're going to do next.  

He's just about to start the hundredth and thirteenth lap of the cell when he hears the distinctive click of high heels drawing closer. 

"I'm guessing you're the mastermind around here?" he says as she comes to a stop outside his cell, "I'm flattered."

The woman regards him imperiously. "Don't be," she says at last. 

"Why not? You've gone to so much trouble to get me here."

She shakes her head, long blonde hair swinging with the movement. "This is just up keeping my side of the bargain."

At her words Prometheus steps into view, confirming Midnighter's suspicions. "Hello again, M." No doubt he is smiling that self-satisfied smile that used to make Midnighter's heart skip a beat, figuratively of course.

"Prometheus." The word feels cold in his mouth, accompanied by a sting of betrayal even after all these months. "Working with Cerberus. Aren't you getting tired of this whole Ancient Greek thing?"

"No, not really. Is your boyfriend?" Prometheus takes off his helmet, running a hand through his pale hair. 

Midnighter takes a step forwards, rage and fear intermingling into a tight ball within his chest. "If you've hurt him..."

"Apollo is fine." The woman says. The building panic leaves him in one quick rush leaving him heady with relief. "He's with Spyral."

"You have an agent inside." It's not a question and it doesn't need to be, even without the computer he already knows the answer. 

"Naturally." 

"And you're Artemis." It's a guess, but an informed one.

The woman blinks in surprise, then a slow smile stretches across her face. "Very good. When did you figure that out?"

"I didn't know for sure until you showed yourself but," Midnighter shrugs, "no organisation can function properly with two bosses. I knew that there had to be someone higher up. It only took one quick google search to find that Artemis was the patron goddess of Sparta."

"You were always quick on the uptake," Prometheus sneers, "Except with, well pretty much everything. You rely so much on that computer, thinking you're so much better than the rest of us. What's it like to lose that?" He stalks forwards, giving Midnighter no chance to respond. "Once Artemis is done with you, then it's mine. I might even keep you alive afterwards, see what becomes of the great Midnighter then, when everything special about you is stripped away."

Midnighter bites back the urge to rage. He can't believe that he had ever been so naive, that he had ever trusted, _loved_ , the traitorous part of him whispers, this man. But he pushes all the anger, the hurt, down, bottles it up for later. For when he's out of this cell and can let it loose on Prometheus' face. Instead he turns to Artemis. "You planned this." 

He doesn’t know who he is angrier with at the moment, Artemis or himself. He had known something wasn’t quite right from the moment he met Peter Herring. But then he had gotten swept up in the case, exhilarated by their wins. He had saved the children and at the time that was enough for him. And now they were going to pay for his carelessness.

It’s the same goddamn trick Prometheus played the last time and he fell for it again, hook, line and sinker.

"Did you really think I would be so careless?" she laughs, tinkling and cold. "Yes, I left you a trail. A witness, a group of dim-witted bikers, an easily manipulated Gotham mob, leading straight to a desperate man and an endangered child. Which is where you picked up the helot."

"You meant for us to take Stellanova." It doesn't change anything, but it is unsettling to realise that the bond he had formed with the kid had been planned all the same.  "And the raid on the training compound?"

"All acceptable losses. Enough to get you invested in the well-being of the helot. It is fascinating, is it not? My psychics are aware of the block it has put in it's mind of course, but none are strong enough to breach it."

"And what's going to happen to her now?"

"It is already undergoing reconditioning, having it's memory wiped of the past month. Then it will return to active duty."

"She's a child." Midnighter snarls.

"It is a weapon." Artemis snaps back. She takes a breath and smooths out her dress. "And beneath both of our concerns."

Midnighter grits his teeth at her easy dismissal of the kid's fate. "Then why all this?" He waves his hand, "Why the charade? What is it that you want?" Even as he asks the questions, there is a sick feeling in his gut. He already knows the answer, he should have realised it long before this point. 

"I want my brother at my side. I want Apollo."

***

They don't even get the chance to properly begin their investigation. 

Apollo knows that Tiger is furious, the frigid silence he is met with any time he attempts to start some line of dialogue is proof enough, but he won't take back his suspicions. Especially when he is still unconvinced of the agent's innocence. 

Still, he follows him to an interrogation room where Agent Thirty-two is waiting. They watch through a one-sided mirror as the agent in question shifts in his seat. From what Apollo has been told, he knows that the agent has no idea why he has been brought to the room. After letting the man sweat for another minute or so he turns to Tiger. 

"So how do you want to play this? Good cop, bad cop?"

Tiger huffs, glaring at him from the side of his eye. "You watch too much American television." 

With that, he punches in the code and sweeps into the room, leaving Apollo in his dramatic wake. 

Agent Thirty-two jumps to alertness as they enter, eyes narrowing as he takes them in. "What is this, 1?" He growls, crossing his arms. "And who's that?" He punctuates the question by jabbing his head in Apollo's direction. Apollo imitates the man, squaring his shoulders as well in a way he knows makes him look almost twice his size. He considers floating or making his eyes glow but decides to leave that for later on. 

Tiger leans forwards aggressively, hands on the table in front of him. "There is no point hiding any longer. We know who you are and I am getting the information I need one way or another. Don't make me use hypnos. We both know the risks."

"You don't know shit. I have no idea what you're talking about." Thirty-two says, "And the risks go both ways. So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on." 

Before he can say anything in response, Apollo registers the sound of the door hissing open behind them. In sync, he and Tiger turn to face the unexpected intruder. Agent Twenty-three stands in the doorway, computer in hand. Before either of them has the chance to question her, she speaks. "My lady wants to talk with you." 

In an instant Apollo is by her side, dragging her none to gently into the room. She shakes off his arm, setting the computer down on the table and opening it. "I guess you've found your traitor." She says sardonically. 

If Tiger is ruffled by the sudden turn of events, he doesn't show it. "Go get Matron." He orders Thirty-two. The agent is visibly put out to be sent away but clearly recognises the severity of the situation and rushes off with only minor grumbling. Or perhaps it is that he is scared of what Matron would do to him if she found out that he had waited. 

The computer screen lights up with an incoming call that Twenty-three answers. A regal looking woman blinks into existence, a welcoming smile that is at odds with the situation fixed upon her face. There is something familiar about her that he can't quite place, until she begins to speak. "It is good to see you again Apollo." 

"It's you. From the gala." He racks his brain for her name, "Emily." Internally he curses himself. She had been right in front of him and he hadn't realised. He'd even liked her. 

“You do remember me.” She sounds inordinately pleased, “I was hoping I had made an impression. You certainly left one on me, I’ve been wanting to speak to you properly, with no pesky alias’s or masks since before then.”  

“You say that as if you are not using one now,” Tiger says, “Or am I to believe you are truly Artemis, goddess of the hunt?”

"The Spyral agent. You've made some progress with the helots from what I've heard. It almost seems a pity to undo your hard work. Almost." 

Tiger makes a threatening sound of rage. "You stay away from her. Don't you dare-” 

"Don't presume to tell me what I can and cannot do." Artemis draws herself up, looking every inch the goddess she claims to be. If it were under different circumstances Apollo would respect her, probably even like her. But as it is, all he can feel for her at that moment is disgust and no small amount of fury. 

"Now, where were we," she says, dismissing Tiger as if he were no more than a fleck of dust on her fingernail. "Ah, yes."

The screen changes to show Midnighter pacing a cell. Apollo's heart leaps to his throat. He scans Midnighter as quickly and thoroughly as he can, searching for any evidence of injury but thankfully can't find any. Frustrated, restless, yes but not hurt. 

"I have your beloved. He is unharmed and I have no intention of changing that..." She pauses significantly. 

His eyes are definitely glowing now. "If I do what you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of plot twists in this chapter, hopefully I haven't lost anyone. Did you guys see any of this coming? Let me know in the comments, I'm honestly interested on what your guys' theories were (that is if I gave you enough information to have any, I'm not sure if I did). Let me know about that too, I'm always interested in constructive criticism. 
> 
> Almost done now, we're on the last leg of the race as it were.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another chapter so soon you say. Why yes because it seems my muse has finally arrived at the second last chapter. That's right folks next chapter's going to be the last so buckle down because this is going to be a wild ride

Apollo's stomach twists into knots, heat beat thrumming in his ears in time with the vibrating of the plane seat. He takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. He hasn't been this nervous since, well since he challenged Neron to a battle of wits. And this time it's not his life that is on the line. No, this time it's Midnighter's life that he's bartering. Okay, scratch that. He's definitely more nervous now than he ever was around Neron.  

Across from him, Tiger meets his eyes, gaze steely. 

Matron had arrived in the interrogation room just as Artemis had begun her long list of demands. First was that Apollo was to come alone; something that Matron had refused outright. Instead the two considerable forces had butted heads until they reached an agreement, Apollo was to be going for Midnighter and Tiger was going as an ambassador on behalf of Spyral. Second was that he was to travel to a neutral location, where he was to be picked up and transported to the Cerberus base. No Spyral vehicles or personnel were to be allowed within a hundred-mile radius of the site and any attempts of pursuit would be met with deadly force, and the demise of Agent 1. Likewise attempting to track them by satellite would result in the death of Agent 1. 

Apollo can't help but respect Tiger for agreeing to go on the mission. He's definitely in more danger than Apollo is, Artemis wants him alive but Tiger is completely disposable to her.

Neither he nor Tiger were allowed to bring weapons of any sort, except of course in Apollo's case where his weapon is himself. Obviously, no communication devices of any sort were allowed either, including Tiger's Hypnos implants which he had to have removed. 

Any resistance on Tiger's behalf would lead to his death. Any resistance on Apollo's behalf would lead to serious injury of Midnighter. (Not death, Artemis had made that clear. She wants to work with him, eventually bring him around to her side and she knows that would never happen if she were to kill Midnighter.)

The knowledge that someone thinks that he is capable of ever working with an organisation like Cerberus, let alone leading it, makes Apollo feel unclean. Her words are like a spreading stain under his skin and he feels an irrational urge to shower, to scrub at his skin until the black mark disappears. Now that he is almost certain of Tiger's innocence, he can sympathise with why the man was so angry with his accusation. He wasn't just accusing the agent of being a traitor but a man capable of horrific child abuse. 

When they had arrived at the agreed upon site, they were met with several Cerberus hoplites as well as agents clearly from the tech division. The two of them were thoroughly checked for any tracking devices and electronics in general. Briefly Apollo had wondered if the computer in Midnighter's brain would so up in a similar scan. Then he had remembered how the computer had gone offline in the fight at Luna Park and his worry had increased twofold. 

He had been slightly surprised when the Cerberus agents hadn't instantly put them in handcuffs but he supposed that Artemis had thought that her threats were enough to keep them in line, and she was trying to get on his good side after all. 

The two of them were blindfolded and fitted with devices that made Apollo's sense of direction go haywire, along with his control of the contents of his stomach.

Luckily both he and Tiger had made it to the plane without throwing up. 

They've been flying for several hours now. The shutters on the windows are firmly closed giving him no indication of where they are or what direction they are going in. The agents on the plane have been silent the entire flight, not responding to anything he said. Even the pilot had no communication with any outside personnel, which he is pretty sure is some kind of aircraft law violation but in the scheme of what Cerberus has done, he guesses breaking a few more laws won't bother them. 

His stomach flops and it takes him a second to realise that it's because the plane has started its descent. He feels the metal of the seat under his grip creak and when he lets go there are small indents where his fingers were. His nervousness returns in full force and he wonders when he'll be allowed to see Midnighter. 

It'll be the first thing that he demands of course, but that doesn't mean that Artemis is going to let him any time soon. 

He jolts in time with the plane as the wheels touch the ground, once, twice as they skid. He can pick up on voices outside the plane, a bustle that isn't dissimilar to an airport. The plane slows to a stop and the Cerberus agents stand as the door of the plane clunks open. He'd noticed that there wasn't any way to open the door from the inside, probably so that whoever is inside can't force their way out. He and Tiger wouldn't be the first of Cerberus' prisoners to fly in this plane but if there's anything he can do about it they will be the last. 

He stands as well, following them down the stairs propped against the side of the plane. 

They're in some kind of hangar. Planes and trucks of all sorts line the walls, the ceiling high enough that there are catwalks crisscrossing above the aircrafts. Uniformed people, though not the uniform that the hoplites usually wear, hurry this way and that, talking into communicators or taking down notes on electronic pads and the occasional physical clipboard he notes with amusement. Amusement that quickly vanishes as he and Tiger are led out the hangar and further into the base. 

Another group of agents meet them at the exit of the hangar, one gruffly ordering Tiger to follow them. When Apollo tries to follow as well, he is stopped by their original escort. 

"Where are you taking him?" He demands. Tiger pauses, looking back at him. 

"To a cell until our kings are ready for him." Is all the answer he gets before Tiger is led away, the man in question shooting him a look when Apollo goes to protest again. 

Unsettled, he watches until Tiger disappears around a corner and he is ushered on. 

Something about the agent's wording bothers him, the use of 'our kings' rather than 'my lady' as Agent twenty-three had used. It's then that he realises the reason that Spyral had no idea that Artemis had existed before she revealed herself is that most Cerberus agents also have no idea that she exists. The kings in question must be Agiad and Eurypondid, the two Spartan royal families and as far as anyone is concerned the leaders of Cerberus.

Apollo swears that he is being led in circles through Cerberus' maze-like corridors. They have been so careful with the location of their base so far, it makes sense that they would be equally so with the location of their leader's office. At least he hasn't been blindfolded or fitted with those despised disorientaters this time. Still, he is about to voice is annoyance at the waste of time when they come to a stop outside a grand looking oak door. They enter without knocking and then Apollo is left alone inside the room. 

A cursory glance confirms that there is no-one else in the room, but that he is being watched if the blinking red light on the camera mounted in the corner is anything to go by. He takes the moment of quite to examine the room, but there isn't much there other than an ornately carved wooden desk and matching leather chair. It seems that when it comes to interior decorating, Cerberus is quite... spartan. Despite himself, he laughs at his own joke. 

"And what has you so amused brother?"

Apollo startles, whipping around to face Artemis. He hadn't heard her approaching, let alone enter the room, which while he knows isn’t impossible, hasn't happened in a very long time. "Nothing." he responds, laughter well and truly gone. 

Artemis hums, rounding the desk so that she stands beside the leather chair, though she makes no move to sit down. "I would have liked for you to be here under better circumstances brother, but you've always had a bit of a soft spot where it comes to mortals."

"Stop calling me that."

"What? Brother?"

"You know that we're not really twins right? I'm not actually the god Apollo, and well," he squints at her, "it's unlikely that you're actually Artemis." He would really like to be certain on that, but unfortunately it is also entirely possible that she is actually the goddess, Wonder Woman's presence proving the existence of the Grecian gods and all. 

She regards him coldly for a minute before shaking her head slightly. He can't tell if she really is Artemis and may get violent if she figures out he isn't Apollo or if she's just caught up in her own delusion and ignores any attempts to bring up reality. 

"As I said before, I have no wish to hurt your Midnighter but you know how we can be when it comes to each other's lovers." 

Icy fear grips at his heart. "I'm sorry. Don't hurt him." 

Artemis smiles. "See brother, I knew you would come around to seeing things my way, it just took the right motivation." 

***

He feels as if he could be going mad. The silence in Midnighter's head is deafening. The computer is a curse, but he has come to realise that losing it is perhaps even more so. He can't remember a time without the computer, Bendix made sure of that. Every waking moment it has been with him, analysing the world around him, telling him what to do next, how to hurt, how to kill. It even invaded his dreams, filled with people and bulls-eyes. A constant, inescapable companion that he has come to rely on so, so much. 

Prometheus is right.

He's right and Midnighter hates that with every fibre of his being. 

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls him from his brooding. Midnighter curses the limited view his cell allows him, only what's straight ahead. There aren’t any voices, and no sounds of high heels, so he has no way of figuring out who is coming. Once again, he keenly feels the loss of the computer, with it the split second of them entering his sight lines is all he would need to have a fully formulated plan of attack. As it is, the appearance of Tiger is surprising enough that it takes him even longer to focus on the situation. 

_What the hell is Tiger doing here?_

He wasn't with them at Luna Park, last he'd seen him was at Spyral headquarters where they were supposed to meet him again afterwards. He's not restrained, meaning that he came willingly, but he is being led by an armed escort to a cell across from Midnighter's so he can't have sold Spyral out for Cerberus. 

And if he's here what does that mean for Apollo?  

"Fancy seeing you here, Agent 1." He calls out to the man. 

Tiger turns halfway into the cell. "I heard from a mutual friend of ours that the accommodation was unmissable." 

Midnighter barks out a laugh at the unexpected humour in the response. One of the Cerberus agents makes a sound of annoyance and goes to shove Tiger fully into the cell. Tiger springs into action. 

He smoothly sidesteps the man, tripping him and plucking the gun from his waistband in the same movement. Before the other two guards even have a chance of responding he has used the gun to hit one on the temple, knocking him out. Midnighter whistles in appreciation, the agent isn't ranked number one for no reason. The third guard draws his own gun as the first clambers to his feet. Tiger engages the third man, crowding him so that the gun is useless. They scuffle over the guns, each attempting to wrestle their opponents’ gun from their grip. 

The first man grabs Tiger's wrist. The Spyral agent brings his fist back, gun still clenched inside, against the man's face with a sickening crunch. The guard stumbles backwards again, blood slipping through the fingers he cups over his injured nose. The third guard takes advantage of Tiger's distraction, punching him in the stomach. Tiger doubles over with a grunt but quickly recovers to deliver three responding blows of his own. 

Midnighter itches to join the fight. 

The third man goes down hard and Tiger turns to his final opponent. The man glares at him hatefully, swinging wildly as he approaches. Midnighter wonders if the man's vision has been compromised or he has become sloppy due to anger. If he had the computer, he would be able to tell. Either way, the guard doesn't last long against Tiger. 

"I'm impressed." Midnighter says, "All of that and you didn't even kill any of them."

Tiger shrugs, "It would have been a waste of bullets." He walks over to Midnighter's cell to examine the keypad there. After a minute of fiddling with it he steps back and raises the gun.

Midnighter raises an eyebrow that the inelegant solution. "What, no fancy Spyral tech?"

The forcefield flickers and disappears. "I was stripped of all technology before coming here."

Midnighter steps out of the cell. "That means no cavalry coming to the rescue." He rolls his shoulders. 

"If I can get to a terminal, I can contact Spyral. Matron is waiting by with agents at the ready." Tiger collects the remaining weapons from the unconscious Cerberus Agents. 

But there's something Midnighter has to ask first. "Apollo?"

"He's here." Tiger offers him a gun, Midnighter silently shakes his head. "Artemis is unlikely to harm him, she wants him by her side."

"Yeah she mentioned." Midnighter mutters, then adds, "Okay then, Agent 1, lead on."

The two of them make their way down the hallway out of the holding cell area. Midnighter notes with interest that there aren't any other prisoners in the area. They need to be quick, the agents Tiger knocked out will only stay down for so long and while Midnighter didn't _see_  any cameras it doesn't mean that there aren't any there. For all they know there could be a battalion of hoplites ready to meet them around any corner. But they also need to be stealthy. They can't be caught before Tiger manages to contact Spyral, and even then, it's going to take Matron several hours at least to reach the Cerberus base. And Midnighter has no plans to once again become a hostage in that time.

As luck has it, it doesn't take them long, and only a few close calls, to find a room resembling an office. They make quick word of the two Cerberus personnel inside, piling them into a supply closet at the back of the room. There's an open console on one of the desks and Tiger wastes no time getting to work, not bothering to explain what he is doing to Midnighter as he goes. Not that he cares, Spyral can keep their secret communication channel. 

He yearns to go find Apollo, to know for sure that he's safe, to be there to watch his back. But he knows at this point that all that it will do is put Apollo in more danger. So instead, Midnighter stands guard just inside the door. He tenses every time someone passes the door, but none of the footsteps slow and no one comes to check on the two Cerberus agents. 

Just as Tiger begins to speak lowly and urgently into the computer's microphone, Midnighter picks up on another voice coming down the outside corridor. 

"I'm trying." The voice floats closer, "It's resisting me." a pause, "Yes I know but I haven't had enough time to-"

There's a short silence in which Midnighter is able to focus on the footsteps. Two of them, no wait, a third softer pair. "I'm just saying that it's going to take time."

Midnighter cracks open the door, granting himself a slivered view of the hallway. Tiger's head snaps up, question in his eyes. Midnighter holds up a hand to silence him as the trio draw closer. There are two Cerberus agents. One is dressed in the same uniform as the guards who Tiger had taken out, gun visible on her hip. The other is dressed in non-descript white and grey with some kind of blue symbol on his chest, talking into a phone. But what Midnighter is really looking at is the small figure flanked between the two adults. 

Stellanova, once again dressed in the helot uniform, face blank as the day they met. He can't see any visible signs of injury on her but the way the agent was talking before, it makes sense to think that he was talking about her. A rush a pride intermingles with the hot rage settled in his gut; she's been resisting Cerberus' attempts to recondition her. But from the sound of it, there's only so much longer she can hold out for.

To hell with subtlety, he's not leaving the kid in Cerberus' hands any longer. 

Midnighter swings the door open fully, the blue symbolled agent jumping out of its way with a curse as the other draws her gun. Behind him, Midnighter can hear Tiger spitting out a curse of his own. The Cerberus agent's gun wavers slightly as she clearly recognises him. 

"Tell it to attack him," she orders.

"But It's not fully reprogrammed yet," the other protests, "There's no way to be certain-"

He cuts himself off as Midnighter advances on the two of them, scrambling back a few paces. Tiger is by his side, cursing again as he assesses the situation. 

Midnighter dodges the gunshot. Even without the computer it was obvious that she was going to shoot with the way her hands were trembling. The shot probably would've gone wide even if he hadn't moved but without the computer, he can't be sure.

"It's us, or it."

"Oh, I'd much rather fight you." Midnighter says darkly. The man gives a 'meep' of fear.

 _"επιτίθεμα"_  

Instantly Stellanova leaps into action, towards Midnighter. As he moves out of her path, disappointment surging in his chest, he notes the two Cerberus agents turning tail. "I've got the kid," he tells Tiger, "Don't let them get away."

Tiger hesitates, eyes on Stellanova, before gruffly agreeing. Midnighter turns his attention back on the kid as she attacks again. 

Now that he's without his computer the fight is far fairer than it was the last time they fought like this, the time they met. Not to say that this fight is much of a competition, even without the computer he's still expertly trained and twice her size and weight. So, this fight will go down fairly similarly to the last, except for one main thing, this time he's playing strictly defence. The first time he hadn't been sure about Cerberus' control, she'd been a kid so he had held back but there was also another kid in danger that he had sworn to protect. No, this time he can't hurt her, can't harm her with hands that he had used just hours earlier to wipe ice-cream from her own. 

Surprisingly, Cerberus has armed her. The knife is similar to the kind that she used before, and wickedly sharp. He inwardly sighs as it catches on the edge of his jacket, looks like he's going to have to replace this one as well, bloodstains come out but unfortunately cuts do not. 

A solid blow connects to his jaw and he staggers back a few paces. Yeah, a lot like last time. 

He leads her out of the corridor and back into the room.

She sweeps low and his knee buckles, sending him crashing down. Goddamn that hurt, he's getting too old for this. Apollo would say he's being dramatic but he's never fought the kid before. "Hey kid," he tries. Blocks the kick aimed for his head. "You don't have to do this."

She goes in for another swipe of the knife but now that he's paying more attention to her than the thoughts in his head, he can see that there's a slight reluctance to her movements. "Yeah, you know me." She tilts her head considering, "That's it." Then strikes. 

"Fuck." And now he's on the floor. Okay maybe he took this whole, not fighting back thing a bit too far because the kid took him down way too easy. 

It's become hard to breathe, and lifting his head up from the cold tile he sees it’s because the kid is now perched on his chest. "It's okay, kid. It's gonna be okay Stellanova."

How had Tiger described it? Like there was a fog that blocked Stellanova from what Cerberus made her. And that behind that fog was a mass of pain, fear and confusion. If he can just reach to her, get past that fog, get her to feel then maybe she will be able to break free of Cerberus' control. 

Her eyes meet his, and he can see the uncertainty warring in the depths. 

Her hand trembles, knife still positioned to come down on his throat. She hesitates, eyes meeting his. 

"It's going to be alright. That's it, fight it." 

The trembling becomes more pronounced, breathing becoming hard and ragged. "You're stronger than them Stellanova, stronger than their control over you. Fight it. Let yourself feel." 

She blinks hard, recognition coming into her eyes. The knife slips from her grip, clattering to the side harmlessly. "That's right, you're free. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She crumples against his chest, and Midnighter sits up so that he can properly wrap his arms around her. "I've got you, I've got you. Everything's going to be okay. I won't let them hurt you."

"Midnighter." Stellanova gasps, her voice rough and soft. She lets out a high-pitched keen, and begins to sob. _"Hurts."_

He can't do much more than hug her to him, one hand rubbing circles on her back, whispering reassurances to the top of her head. Her whole body shakes against his from the force of her cries. He wonders when was the last time she had let herself feel properly, the last time she had cried. Probably as a baby before Artemis sicced her psychics on her.  

She's still crying when Tiger rejoins them five minutes later, having disposed of the two cowards. He seems to be at a loss of what to do with the weeping child but after he makes sure that no one will be able to interrupt them, sits on the floor next to Midnighter. He reaches out his hand, Stellanova latching onto it and clinging so tightly her knuckles turn white. 

Midnighter doesn't know how long they sit like that until the sobs turn into the occasional whimper that finally peters out to silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you noticed that I like to leave things on dramatic one liners? Because I have (not that I'm gonna stop doing it tho)  
> Also you have no idea how long I've been planning this re-match, let me go cry in a corner because I have no idea what evil entity came over me when I decided Stellanova's first word was going to be 'Midnighter'
> 
> 'επιτίθεμα' - attack


End file.
